


Quietus

by ElkasCorner



Series: What Hides in Our Shadows [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: But He Gets Better, Comfort, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Found Family, Giving personality to characters who need em, Healing, How many live is the question, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Like, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Memory Loss, Might become crack idk, Mistaken Identity, Multi, Muteness, Naming characters who don't have names, Nonbinary Character, Not Beta Read, Oops, Or atleast Bi, POV Alternating, Post-Embrace the Void Ending (Hollow Knight), Radiance is actually kinda good?, Some angst, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Tagged major character death just in case, The Pale King Redemption (Hollow Knight), The Pale King is a Bad Parent (Hollow Knight), Time Travel Fix-It, Unfortunately the Pale King has become a main character, but she isn't downright evil, complex characters, good ending, how to tag?, its angst, looking at you lurien's butler, no beta we die like the vessels, obviously a plauge is bad, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 39,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElkasCorner/pseuds/ElkasCorner
Summary: This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Everyone they have ever loved is dead, or dying, or wished they were dead. The kingdom is in ruins, the survivors barely holding on. If they could fix it, they would. If only they had more time.And time was theirs to command.ORGhost ascends to godhood, decides to travel back in time and fix things, and saves those they couldn't before. They deserve a family, and nobody deserves to die (except soul master. fuck him.)
Relationships: Dryya/White Lady (Hollow Knight), Grimm/The Pale King (Hollow Knight), The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight)
Series: What Hides in Our Shadows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116965
Comments: 388
Kudos: 278
Collections: DerangedDeceiver's Favorite Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This might (will, probably) devolve into crack soooo. Like, when you have this many vessels running around, you are bound to get into weird and oddly funny situations, right? Anyway, here, another fanfiction because these bugs are occupying vital brainspace and if I have to deal with them, so do you.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Not with this death, this carnage. Not with the fading of everyone they had grown to care about, to love. Vanquishing the Old Light shouldn’t have cost the lives of their friends, and the lives of those they never got to meet. 

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

They were not meant to stay here, trapped, in a form they could not safely call themself. 

Everything about it felt _wrong_. Maybe if they had more time, they could’ve saved everyone, or at least someone. Maybe if they had more time, they could find some alternate way to deal with this. If they just had more time. More time.

Time.

Theirs to control.

But they did not know how. They did not know this form like they did their old. This form was wrong, leaking thoughts they could not call their own into what might not even be their mind anymore. 

Please, stop. Please, go back. Please, no more.

Stop. No more. Go back.

Go back.

**Go back.**

And that is what the Ghost of Hallownest did.

\--

 _Leaping hard into walls, breath knocked from their lungs, and yet, despite the burning in their very core, they lifted themselves up and leapt again. Clawing at each stoney face as they ascended, higher, higher, towards the light. Not so they could leave, no, so they could be with their sibling. The light called for their sibling, for all of their siblings, them as well, but the will to be with their sib, their_ twin _, was what made them leap across the darkness, claws outstretched, hoping to make contact with the next platform in the gruelling gauntlet._

_They continued to ascend, leaping and landing, their leg jabbing into some spikes. If they had voice, they’d make not a sound, for their pain did not matter in that moment. Reaching their twin was all that mattered, all they wanted. They leapt again, but it was off, to short, they fell._

_But their paws caught them. The ledge of cold metal, just barely illuminated by the light. It was breathtaking, and for a moment, their mind, traitorous as it was, willed to join it, but then they say their twin. Staring down at them, halfway between the freedom of the light and their prison of the dark. They tried to push themselves up, but their arms were exhausted. They were surprised they were even able to keep hanging, suspended, on nail’s edge._

_They called to their twin for aid. But their twin only continued to gaze. And then, they turned around. Not to help them, but to join the light. They called out again, frantic, wondering why their twin was leaving. They were supposed to have each other, no? Come back! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave!_

_But the light consumed their twin, and burned them, as the heavy doors sealed shut. Their grip slipped, and has they tried to recover, the last of the light burned through their wings, as did the betrayal of their twin burned their core. They fell, plunging through the darkness, burning alive._

Don’t leave me… don’t leave… don’t….

\--

Ghost woke in agony. Even without voice, they screamed. Screamed across void, screamed with their movements, with the scrapping of joints and carapace on the masks of so many long gone kin. Everything hurt, everything burned, even though their wings had long since stopped burning and were nothing but charred wisps of what once was. They could not move, laying on the corpses of their brethren, as void leaked from their mask. They shivered. It was cold, in the Abyss. They did not remember it being cold, and yet.

Footsteps. Ghost did not move, could not move. They stopped beside them, and a mask entered their view. Another vessel, living. Ghost felt a gentle prod, not anywhere on their body, but from the link all vessels shared, as beings of void. The other vessel prodded again, stronger this time, more urgent in manner. Ghost did not respond, part of themself wishing to fade away into the voidsea. 

Was that even possible, now, when they _were_ the voidsea? The entirety of the void? Is that what they wanted? 

Another vessel soon joined the picture, urging the smaller one to come with. But the smaller one did not, instead, pointed to Ghost’s form. The taller one came closer, asking a simple **_“Why?”_ **

To which the smaller vessel responded with, **_“They’re alive.”_ **

**_“No, they are not. Come now, we must go, the other three will only wait for so long.”_ **

They taller one moved to take the smaller one’s paw, but the smaller one instead reached for Ghost’s own splayed out one. They placed their paw on Ghost’s, and the tiniest twitch of Ghost’s claws confirmed to the small one what they thought. **_“See? Alive.”_ **

The tall one was looking now. Mournfully, the spoke, **_“They will die soon. There is not much we can do for this sibling. We must go if we wish to live.”_ **

Again, the tall one tried to move the small one. And again, they refused. Instead, the focused all their attention on Ghost. Get up, the called, get up and come with. Live with them. Join them in freedom of the Abyss. The same urgency was back, pleading, begging. Ghost pushed themselves up, slowly and carefully, as their wings still burned despite having long since lost their usefulness. How long had they remained inert? When did their twin claw their way to freedom without them? Time was meaningless down in the Abyss. What could feel like hours would only be a few minutes outside of the Abyss, and what felt like minutes could be centuries. Perhaps they had already failed..?

The smaller vessel tugged Ghost along. They did not look over the two vessels, or their surroundings, looking at nothing, until they joined three other vessels at a wall. How could this be an escape, they wondered? One of the three vessels moved towards the wall, placing a paw on it. Their horns almost resembled that of their twin. They tried not to think about that, instead focusing on the differences. Two horns with two prongs, close together but like a staircase. The inner prong was taller then the outer one. 

Ghost then focused on the other vessels. They were conversing, but Ghost did not listen. The second of the three vessels had two horns at the top of their head, smooth with no prongs. The third had two horns at the top of their head that pointed downwards, again, with no prongs. It was when they looked over the small vessel still holding their paw did they realize something.

All of them, every last vessel here, had been dead on Ghost’s journey. 

They had seen their corpses. The three vessels all strung up in Nosk’s lair. The tall one, with three horns on their head, two on one side, both the larger of the horns, and a singular horn on the other, was the broken vessel they had to fight in order to repair their broken wings. And the vessel holding their paw, with four little, stubby cheek horns, was the Greenpath vessel. The one impaled on, presumably, their own nail, mask cracked. They one who had given them the mothwing cloak. 

Ghost felt… sick, almost. Their body swayed, and then they crashed. Sparks of alarm rang out and they could see paws reach for them. But then, they were once again deep in slumber.

\--

The second time the Ghost of Hallownest awoke in the past was more peaceful, with less pain. The second time Ghost awoke, they were not alone. They were immediately aware of their surroundings, which was dark and poorly lit, asides from the pale glow of the mushrooms. They could hear the distant rumble of garpedes, and even more distant shrieking. Next to Ghost, sitting and watching something else, was the same vessel from Greenpath. Ghost thought they ought to find names for everyone, or encourage them to name themself.

They shifted up, which caught the attention of everyone. They looked at each other for a moment. **_“Now that they are awake, we should go,”_ **one of the Nosk vessel’s said. 

**_“Wait,”_ ** the not-so-broken vessel spoke. **_“You seem familiar. Are you the twin of the one who left?”_ **

Ghost was silent for a moment. And then they nodded. They expected some sort of backlash, and instead they got pity. They didn’t need the pity. Ghost struggled up, standing on two vaguely shaking legs, and nodded determinedly. **_“It’s dangerous here, we can’t stay long,”_ ** they said. **_“If we can get to Greenpath, we should be safe.”_ ** And then they wondered how much of Deepnest’s danger came from the Infection and the lack of upkeep. **_“We should choose some names, first.”_ **

**_“And what do you suggest?”_ **Another of the Nosk vessel’s said. The one with the singular upward horns. 

Ghost thought for a minute. **_“I’ll start with my name. It’s Ghost.”_ ** Given by Hornet, our sister, they silently added. They then looked to the Greenpath vessel. **_“Why not Mossy? Or Mothwing.”_ **

**_“Mothwing!”_ ** The greenpath vessel Mothwing clapped. Then Mothwing looked towards their twin. **_“What about you?”_ **

**_“Hmm. Lost? Or maybe Kin, but that could be confusing.”_ **

The not-so-broken vessel considered this, and Ghost could feel some displeasure. **_“If you do not like it, we could come up with something else? I think it is good for you, though. I like the name.”_ **Mothwing suggested.

 **_“No. Lost is fine,”_ **Lost insisted. Mothwing brightened and hugged Lost. Ghost felt a pang in their voidheart, finding themself missing Hornet and The Hollow Knight. Would The Hollow Knight remember them? Did they, the first time they fought? Or were they too far gone, taken by the Pale King and then the Radiance?

 **_“What about us three?”_ **Another of the Nosk vessels piped up.

Ghost started with the first of the three vessels they had seen, the one with the staircase horns (do not remember your twin). **_“Mimic.”_ ** And then Ghost looked at the next vessel, smooth horns who pointed up. **_“Thread.”_ ** And then the last, who’s smooth horns pointed downwards. **_“And Falcer. Are everyone satisfied with their names?”_ **Ghost got a chorus of yes. With that, the group made the decision to find a way out of Deepnest. It may be safer before the Infection, or, perhaps since the Infection killed bugs, it was more dangerous? Either way, Ghost had another reason to flee Deepnest. The Dreamer, Herrah, mother of Hornet. If she was not yet asleep, she would end up finding them and would probably tell the Pale King. Maybe. They didn’t know Herrah well, couldn’t read her like they could other bugs. Still, they rather not chance it. 

Dirtmouth was probably the safest place to be. The town on the surface was probably somewhere the King would not go, nor would those who would tell him about the escapees. Plus, they could probably blend in as some bug from a distant land. The memory of an old friend drifted across their mind. Maybe, if they could fix everything, they could find Tibia again? 

Ghost didn’t know where they were headed until they stumbled upon a familiar room. Oh no. Staring back at them were themself. **_“Stay behind me,”_ **Ghost told their siblings.

 **_“But there’s two of you!”_ **Mothwing said.

 **_“They’re a fake!”_ ** Falcer hissed, dropping into a combative stance. However, they lacked a nail. All of them did. Them, defenseless, against as Nosk? **Not** **defenseless** , a part of Ghost whispered. Maybe they retained their spells? They had had no soul in the Abyss to test, but perhaps now? 

The Nosk twisted its body in what should be unnatural, revealing it’s true form to the group. Ghost was about to spring forward when Mimic rushed forward, brandishing what looked like a mandible from a dirtcarver. Their fierce battlecry rushed over the other vessels. _Mandibles!_ Why hadn’t Ghost thought of that? A perfect stand in until they could get a real nail.

Mimic stabbed one of the Nosk’s legs. The Nosk cried out and swept at Mimic, legs making contact and sending them flying away. Thread gave Ghost another dirtcarver mandible. Thread themself held a leg. Falcer was already charging in, swiping at the Nosk with another mandible. **_“Protect the others,”_ **Ghost told Lost who nodded. They then joined Falcer in their attack.

Nosk leapt with a screech, sprawling out its legs. Ghost dodged away, but Falcer wasn’t so lucky. Still, as soon as the Nosk landed, Falcer was on them, as was Mimic. Ghost took a moment as the two hounded on the Nosk, it screeching before charging. Mimic leapt away while Falcer rolled. Ghost side stepped, swinging out their improvised nail to do some damage. Mimic landed next to Ghost, watching as the Nosk collided with a wall. **_“We should run.”_ **

**_“Agreed.”_ **And yet, the chance to take out even one Nosk was tempting. It may protect the triplets in the long run. But staying might doom them. Nosk was charging again. Mimic leapt up again, but the Nosk slammed right into Ghost and kept going. Straight for Lost.

Lost charged forward, and plunged their weapon straight into the Nosk’s head. The Nosk reared back, screeching, as its blood pooled away. Falcer was there, stabbing into the sides to make sure it died. With one final screech, it fell limp. Mothwing, who was hiding behind Thread, stepped out and looked at its body. **_“Problem solved,”_ **Falcer said amused. 

**_“We still need to head for Greenpath.”_ **

**_“We need to fix you, first. That… what is it? Whatever_ ** **that** **_is, hit you hard. I can see cracks,”_ **Thread observed, pointing to the Nosk’s corpse and then to Ghost’s mask. They hadn’t even realised that the Nosk had dealt some good damage to them. Three masks? Nosk didn’t even deal two! 

Ghost wanted to fight back, wanted to get to Greenpath asap, but if they were down to 2 masks and certainly hadn’t gotten enough soul to even heal one, not to mention they weren’t the only one to take damage. They relented, saying, **_“There’s a hot springs and bench not too far from here.”_ ** _I just hope nobody is there_. Ghost lead the way, holding their improvised “nail” at the ready. Falcer walked next to them. Mimic took up the rear with Lost next to them. 

The trip to the hot springs wasn’t nearly as eventful, thankfully, and their mandible weapons worked well as an impromptu mantis claw. The only thing that made it difficult to navigate was the dark. Thankfully Mothwing had taken some of the glowing plants. Even without that, Ghost had some idea of where to go, having remembered fighting Nosk so many times over. Eventually, they had almost reached the hot springs. **_“Be careful of the spikes,”_ **Ghost told them before going first. Leap, land, leap, land, leap, land. And then they were on the other side. 

Falcer went next and was soon by Ghost. Then Mothwing. **_“What if I mess up?”_ **

**_“I’ll be right behind you,”_ **Lost reassured their twin. Mothwing nodded and went. Leap, land, leap, land. And then they stood next to Ghost. They clung to Ghost’s cloak until Lost had safely made it. Thread was next. They did well, until they landed wrong and slipped. Right into the spikes. Their leg was punctured straight through.

Ghost was closer to them then Mimic, and so reached them first. Mimic waited on the platform right behind. Ghost gently lifted Thread off the spikes, then wondered how they were supposed to make it across. Thread whimpered as they tried to stand on their void leaking leg. **_“Lost, you’ll have to catch Thread. Thread, you’ll have to jump. I’m right behind you, and if you must fall, fall towards Lost.”_ **

Thread nodded and looked towards Lost’s extended paws. Thread took a breath, then leapt. For a heart stopping moment, their sibling hovered in the air, then they fell into Lost’s paws. The taller sibling held them firmly, bringing them to their chest. Ghost followed, then Mimic. They all took a small moment to collect themselves before pressing forward, right into the hot springs.

They rushed forward (or limped in Thread’s case) towards the warm water. Mothwing splashed Lost playfully, while also hitting Falcer. Falcer responded with splashing Mothwing, which caused Lost to splash them. Soon enough, those three were having a splash fight. Thread and Mimic rested together as the warm, soul filled water closed up Thread’s wounds. Ghost joined their sibs, but still kept their distance. They tried to remember the way out, but blanked. Mm, didn’t spend enough time in Deepnest. They didn’t want to wander around aimlessly, but they had no tram pass to use. Plus, using it would be dangerous, it going to the Ancient Basin. 

**_“Something the matter?”_ **Thread asked, sensing Ghost’s worry. 

Ghost thought over their words. **_“I… do not remember the way out, but I do not want us to go without purpose.”_ **They faintly remembered the direction of the Distant Village, where Herrah would be. If push came to shove… no, they weren’t going to ask a Dreamer for help, even one who might not like the King. (Might not? They were pretty sure Herrah only tolerated the King.)

 _**“Remember?”** _Mimic prompted with some confusion leaking from them. 

Oh. Didn’t choose well enough. Ghost’s body shook, showing their light chuckle. **_“I may be from, ah, the future.”_ **

**_“Really?!”_ **Both Mothwing and Falcer asked in excitement.

 **_“And what does the future hold, sibling?”_ **Lost asked.

Ghost again hesitated. They didn’t want to scare their siblings, but they didn’t want to lie to them, either. **_“The future_ ** **I** **_came from was… not a good one. All of you I only found once you had passed. As for my twin… there was barely anything of them left, and what I could tell was insurmountable sadness.”_ ** If they had a voice, it would wavor. If they spoke through hands, they would hesitate. Instead, a feeling of nothing came from them as they spoke. A consuming, inescapable nothing. **_“But I came back to change that. So none of you would die, so Hallownest would not suffer from the Old Light.”_ **

They were met with silence, not even a thing over their shared bond. And then Lost stood. **_“We should find a way out, then.”_ **Mothwing followed quickly, picking up their leg-nail and Lost’s mandible-nail, handing that to them. The others followed suit as did Ghost.

**_“I know we must go up to get out, but that’s all I remember.”_ **

Thread almost made a ‘tsk’ noise with vocal chords that did not exist. That noise surprised Ghost, who turned around to look at them. **_“Your wings didn’t heal.”_ **

Ghost paused before shrugging, as though it didn’t bother them (it did.) **_“Well, let’s go already!”_ ** Falcer said, brandishing their mandible-nail. **_“I’m ready to fight any other creepy crawlies!”_ **

Amusement. 

Ghost again led the way, more hesitantly. They had to pass over the spikes again. They looked up, wondering how they were supposed to make that jump. Lost landed next to them, since this platform was a bit larger. Without a word, their taller sibling lifted them up. Ghost thanked them with a nod before climbing up the wall. Soon the rest of their siblings joined them, which took some time as Thread was much more careful. 

They kept walking, Falcer watching the darkness nervously. _**“Afraid of the dark?”** _Mimic teased.

 **_“I am not!”_ **Falcer responded with.

**_“Oh really? Then why don’t you take up the very back? If you weren’t afraid, it wouldn’t matter to you.”_ **

**_“Maybe I will!”_ **But Falcer didn’t move to take up the back. In fact, none of them did, as a small spiderling clad in a red cloak dropped in front of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost does some explaining to Herrah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't expect to update this so soon but I couldn't help myself. Enjoy!

Falcer let out a (metaphorical) shriek.

The spiderling leapt at Falcer. 

And Ghost leapt at the spiderling. 

They tried to pry the red clad spider off their sibling, but only ended up almost stabbed. The spiderling pointed their comically oversized needle at Ghost, who held up their paws in surrender, makeshift nail dropped to the ground. The spiderling’s eyes narrowed as they watched Ghost, slowly moving off their sib. 

“Hornet,” A voice called out and both looked to it. It was Herrah, the Dreamer, Hornet’s mother, the one Ghost had killed. She was alive, and this was Hornet (if the attack didn't make it obvious enough.) Hornet looked back at Ghost’s sib, then to her mother. “I am sure you’ve shown them just how fierce you are, but why don’t you come stand next to me?” Hornet relented, moving to stand by her mother. Herrah placed one paw on Hornet’s head, looking at the group of vessels. Her mask made her so hard to read, and yet Ghost saw her tense.

Their paw shot to where their nail normally would be kept only to be met by air. Right. They eyed it on the ground through the corner of their vision. “You look like Hollow,” Hornet said, staring directly at Ghost, her voice very… flat. Direct? Was this how she behaved when she was younger? Was her older self just her younger self but with more responsibility (too much responsibility)? 

Herrah looked them over closer, a small tilt of the head. “Thank you, my little Honeydrop. I assume you have wandered away from your parents and ended up here,” she addressed the vessels.  _ Something like that _ , Ghost’s mind said with a vague feeling of irony. “Worry not. You may stay in Deepnest while I contact Lurien--”

Ghost sprung forward without thinking. One Dreamer finding them was bad enough (at least it was Herrah). They didn’t need another (especially one who was so loyal to the king.) Ghost’s arms were spread open, waving, as if to say no. Herrah made a tick noise before saying, “Lurien should be alerted of your whereabouts. I am sure your parents are worried sick.” Ghost’s waves grew more frantic. “Runaways? Very well, you can explain your situation to me when we reach The Silk City.” Ghost breathed in relief. They followed Herrah closely, and their siblings followed them closely. They caught Hornet’s eye several times as they went. 

**_“Ghost? Is this safe?”_ ** Lost asked. Unspoken, their hesitation and slight panic. Ghost nodded. It would have to be. They doubted all of them could escape Herrah  _ and  _ navigate well enough to reach Dirtmouth. They’d take Herrah over The Pale King any day, anyway. They weren’t sure how the king would react to them or their siblings, but they weren’t risking them.

They had reached the village. Villagers of all kinds leaned over the suspended bridges, looking at the newcomers. Whispers went through the not-quite-a-city. Herrah had broken off to speak with Midwife, however, the children were not left alone. Several of the villagers (Devout, Ghost remembered them) crowded around them. One of them scooped up Hornet, much to her displeasure. 

Just as quickly as Herrah had left, she had returned, Midwife in tow. “Midwife shall watch over you lot while you stay here.” Her voice held warmth to it. She turned and began climbing up. Midwife gestured for the children to follow, which they did. “I expect you to stay with her, as Deepnest can be dangerous, even to those who have spent their entire lives here. As for you,” she turned her head to look at Ghost, “I would like a word with you.” Ghost nodded and continued to climb in silence. 

Their siblings spilled into the room once they had reached it. It was within one of the larger hanging “nests.” The one Herrah had dreamt within. Ghost didn’t think about that any longer. Midwife was already speaking with Mothwing, who took her well.  **_“Lost, take care of them while I’m gone,”_ ** Ghost requested.

**_“Alright.”_ **

**_“Hey, why does Lost get to be in charge?”_ ** Falcer asked.

**_“Because I’m tall,”_ ** Lost responded with. Falcer gasped and then tried to tackle the taller vessel. Ghost shook their head and followed Herrah, who remained by the entrance of the room. They walked in silence, heading to some other room. Ghost could smell tiktik, the scent only growing stronger as they walked. Were they heading to the kitchens? 

“I admit, I am not sure what vessels eat. Worry not, if you do not need to eat, then I will not force you. Conversely, if you do, I will send food to your siblings,” Herrah finally spoke.

So she had figured it out. “I also doubt you will be able to explain many things to me due to your lack of voice. However, if you happen to know sign language, I know a bit. Lurien knows more. You wouldn’t happen to know how to read and write?” They had stopped walking, Herrah looking at Ghost now. Ghost nodded, miming writing. Herrah nodded and they continued to walk. 

Soon they had arrived in some sort of dining room. Herrah asked a Devout to fetch some parchment and a quill. They sat, Herrah across from Ghost, and some tea was set down. Ghost looked at it skeptically. There was only one capable of making great tea, and that was Seer. Still, Ghost did take a sip of it. It was… surprisingly good. 

“Do you like it? Root gave it to me at our last meeting. I admit, despite this being the same tea she makes for my visits, hers is always somehow better.” There was a certain… fondness in Herrah’s voice. The paper and quill was sat down next to Ghost. “Ah, perfect! I will give you some time to write out your explanation before asking any more questions as they may be answered for me.” And with that Herrah had gotten up to fetch something from the kitchen. 

Ghost looked down at the paper in front of them, then the quill beside. Where would they begin? That they travelled back in time to make sure nobody died? Herrah wouldn’t believe them. They crawled out from the Abyss with their siblings and just wanted to exist in peace? No, because despite how fantastic that sounded, Ghost still wanted, still  _ had to _ , prevent the sealing of their sibling. They took a moment to collect their words, and began.

\--

Herrah returned while Ghost was writing. They didn’t even look up. “You certainly have a rich history,” she mused, then took a sip of tea. The scent of roasted tiktik tried to distract Ghost, but they ignored it, scrawling out word after word. 

Once they finished, they gave it to Herrah. She skimmed the first words, then looked up at Ghost. “Starting with ‘you probably won’t believe this, but you have to’ does not inspire confidence.” Ghost tapped their index claws together as Herrah continued to read.

_ You probably won’t believe this, but you have to. I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll try my best. _

_ Firstly, please please  _ _ PLEASE  _ _ do not tell the Pale King that we are here. I don’t know what he’ll do, but I don’t want to chance it. If you really have to tell him, tell him it’s just me. Please, my siblings shouldn’t have to suffer.  _

_ I’ll tell you their names, and mine. I know this probably isn’t what you want to know, but it’s important anyway. My name is Ghost, it was given to me by someone I care a lot about. The tallest one is Lost, and the smallest one is Mothwing. The one with downward horns is Falcer. They’re scared of the dark. The one with smooth upward horns is Thread. The one with staircase horns is Mimic. Those three are triplets. Keep them together. And keep Lost and Mothwing together. They’re twins, believe it or not. _

_ Secondly, why I’m here.  _

_ My siblings and I were trying to get to Dirtmouth. We had just escaped the Abyss (and we also killed a Nosk!) and I didn’t want to risk staying in Deepnest for multiple reasons, one of which is you, a Dreamer. Another is Deepnest is dangerous in general, and I am not risking my siblings’ lives by staying here unarmed.  _

_ But that doesn’t really explain why I’m here, nor how I learned to read and write, nor how I learned sign language, or how I even know that you are a Dreamer or that your name is Herrah.  _

_ This is where I fear you won’t believe me. I travelled back in time. The future, the one I hope to prevent, is not a happy one. In short, the Hollow Knight fails to contain the Radiance and all the sacrifices were for nothing.  _

_ I want to stop this from happening. I want to give Hollow the childhood they deserve, I want Hornet to have you as her mother and be able to talk to you, I want my siblings to live outside of the Abyss, to live at all. _

_ How I plan to do that, I don’t know. But I know I have to try. For everyone’s sake. So, please.  _

Herrah set the paper down and looked at Ghost. She had no clue where to start with this, and this Ghost was right, she didn’t believe them. She folded her arms, paws resting on her lap and the table. “Firstly, you are correct, I do not believe you travelled back in time. Or I would like to. To think my sacrifice is for nothing, to think I will be torn away from my  _ daughter  _ for  _ nothing _ .” She took a deep breath in, steadying her voice which had grown tense with anger. “I shall ask how  _ did  _ you manage to travel back in time?”

The paper was returned to Ghost so they could respond. How did one explain they achieved godhood by beating up a bunch of bugs in some other bug’s dream and then proceeded to devour the Radiance? Instead, they wrote:  _ I don’t know _ . And truth be told, they didn’t. All they knew was the desperation to fix things, and then waking in the Abyss. Herrah was silent for a long time afterwards, perhaps at the same loss of words. Ghost wrote another thing, and handed it to her.  _ I promise I’ll do everything I can to protect my siblings. That includes Hornet. And, while I don’t think we need to eat, we can still digest food. I’m sure my siblings would like some. _

“Very well. I must… take some time to process everything and make arrangements. Feel free to stay for as long as you wish.” Ghost left Herrah within the dining room, returning to their siblings. 

\--

**_“Oh thank the voidsea you’re back!”_ ** Lost exhaled as Ghost returned. Falcer was one corner of the room, and Lost in the other. The rest of the siblings stayed on the side lines, watching.  **_“Falcer wouldn’t shut up about not being leader!”_ **

Ghost chuckled at that before fully entering the room.  **_“I’m just saying I’d be a better leader!”_ **

**_“You’re scared of the dark!”_ **

**_“So??”_ **

**_“I never said Lost was the leader,”_ ** Ghost added. Midwife had already left. They rested beside Thread, Mimic, and…. Oh dear.  **_“Hey, where's Mothwing?”_ **

That got Lost and Falcer’s attention. Both looked around and all of the siblings realized that Mothwing had disappeared.  **_“Oh no.”_ **

**_“We have to find them!”_ ** Lost said in a panic. Their paws gripped the sides of the mask. Falcer forgot all rivalries and was beside Lost in an instant. 

**_“They can’t have gotten far. We’ll find them,”_ ** They reassured Lost, but the taller vessel didn’t seem to hear. 

**_“You three, look together. Lost, come with me.”_ ** Ghost and Lost set off, with the Deepnest Triplets heading in another direction. Ghost vaguely wondered if they should have told one of them to stay behind in case a Devout or someone else came by to check up on them. Too late for that now, anyway. 

Lost was a nervous wreck, not knowing where to start. Where would Mothwing go, anyway? (Part of Ghost envied that. No, they wouldn’t hold anything against Hollow. Couldn’t, shouldn’t.)

**_“Lost, Lost look at me. You know Mothwing. Where would they go?”_ ** Ghost asked, holding Lost’s face so they’d look into their eyes. Lost was silent, ragged breathing, dread dripping from them

**_“I don’t I don’t….”_ ** Ghost shook Lost, trying to get them to focus.

**_“We WILL find Mothwing, but right now you need to focus. Where would they go?”_ **

Lost looked around. They were still inside what could be considered Deepnest’s castle, The Beast’s Den. Mothwing couldn’t have wandered too far due to the number of bugs around here. Someone would have found Mothwing, right? Lost suddenly set off in one direction and Ghost followed. 

They wound their way through the den dodging the den servants, the devout. Ghost didn’t ask where Lost was going, just hoping it wasn’t a body. And Lost led them straight to a Weaver Den. Mothwing was inside, trying on cloaks. A young spider gasped at their entrance and Mothwing turned around to see them, letting out a happy chirp. They ran towards Lost and hugged them. If Ghost hadn’t known any better, they’d say the cloak propelled Mothwing forward. Wait.

**_“Mothy!”_ ** Lost’s relieved voice echoed. Since when did vessels  _ chirp _ ? Ghost looked at the weaver, instead. The weaver waved at them.

“Ah, if you wish, you could keep the cloak?” She watched Mothwing twirl around with it. Ghost wondered if she knew sign language, and if she didn’t, if there was any paper and a quill nearby. If that cloak really was the one that allowed Ghost to dash, they’d need one as well. So, instead, Ghost pointed to the cloak, then to themself. “I’m sure you can convince them to share.” 

Ghost shook their head, pointed to Mothwing’s new cloak, then to their own cloak, then spread out their paws.  _ “I’d like one,”  _ they tried to convey. The poor weaver had no idea what they were trying to say, however. “Uh, you want me to make you a cloak? It might take some time, but. Oh? That  _ isn’t  _ what you want?”

Ghost sighed internally. Mothwing watched this unfold before dashing over to one of the cloaks and handing it to Ghost.  **_“Like mine!”_ ** Ghost took it and looked it over. It was actually funny how similar it was to Ghost’s current cloak. 

“Oh, do you want that one? It is dreadfully similar to your current one,” she said with a disapproving tone, moving to take it from Ghost. Ghost held it close, clutching the cloak to their chest. She tsk, but didn’t try again. “Well, I should get back to weaving. Thank you for entertaining me little bug!” Mothwing waved at the weaver while Lost dragged them away. 

Lost gave them a questioning look once they had left the room. Ghost put the cloak on and tried dashing. Much to their surprise, they did, which was greatly appreciated. Lost seemed to realize this, then looked back at the room.  **_“Do you want one? Maybe we can all ask for new cloaks!”_ ** Mothwing suggested.

**_“Good idea, but let's head back. And Mothwing, don’t run away again,”_ ** Lost scolded,  **_“You had me scared half to death.”_ **

They reached the room and were met with three vessels and a disappointed looking Devout. “I found these three panicking. Get some sleep children,” he said, before leaving with a curt nod. The triplets ran up to Mothwing and hugged them.

**_“You heard them. Now go to bed,”_ ** Lost said.

**_“But I’m not tired,”_ ** Mimic responded with.

**_“And I am so guess what? You get to sleep! Hahahahaha!”_ ** Falcer said, dragging Mimic down into a pile of soft silk and even softer cushions. Mimic tried to wiggle away, but Thread just lied on top of them. Ghost shook their head affectionately. Mothwing snuggled close to Lost, the taller vessel’s cloak acting like a blanket of sorts. Ghost settled, alone from the rest. All of the siblings were close to each other, but were divided into their respective groups. If only Hollow was here…. 

Hollow would be, soon. As soon as Ghost could figure out how to explain things to the Pale King, which would probably mean figuring out how to deal with the Radiance first. Somehow they would get Hollow out of that situation. Somehow. Some… how….

They drifted off to sleep, encased in darkness. They opened their eyes to see golden clouds and blinding light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> I might edit the ending section with Mothing to make it a bit longer and more detailed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost can't catch a break, even in dreams. At least Hornet knows some things. Oh, and Herrah considers punching PK in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Another chapter! I wrote this some time ago, then I went back and rewrote the beginning. Then I rewrote that. But I'm satisfied with it now. Granted, it did throw off my other (prewritten) chapters, but maybe that's for the best. I'm still working on them, but I've got about 8 prewritten, though two are unfinished and being edited.

Their breath caught in their throat. 

This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be--

“Radi, darling, can you please calm down?”

“I AM PERFECTLY CALM!”

Ghost winced. The Radiance’s voice was so _loud_ and her light hurt to look at. They shielded their eyes from her, squinting at both the Radiance and Nightmare King Grimm. Both of them? Here? Well, it was the Dream Realm, even if The Nightmare King had been separated from it. So why was Ghost here? Better question, _how_ did Ghost get here?

“Well, you can tone down the light then,” The Nightmare King huffed, looking away from her and rolling his eyes. Neither had noticed Ghost yet. They weren’t sure if that was good or bad. “And you can stop yelling.” 

It was the Radiance’s turn to huff. But her light did dim. Enough for Ghost to have to stop shielding their eyes. The Radiance was as imposing as ever, light harsh even though it was dimmed. Ghost cast a look over the edge of the platform. Golden clouds. A long drop. 

“You expect me to be calm, when I have not one, but two threats to worry about? First that Pale Usurper, and now that ravenous Void beast. I can’t protect my children, let alone the rest of Hallownest. No doubt the return of that creature is the Pale Usurper’s fault.”

“Radi, you have me. And Unn. And Root. Unn may not be at her full power, and Root may not be good at fighting, but we all have experience. And that Wyrm could make a good fighter against the Void,” Grimm pointed out. 

The Radiance looked away, eyes landing on Ghost. Her eyes widened as Ghost froze in place. “HE CREATED MORE?!” She screeched, light flaring even brighter than before. Ghost squeezed their eyes shut, turning their head away from her light. They could feel their void moving away from the light, rippling over itself painfully. “THAT COWARDLY, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING WYRM! ONCE I BREAK FREE OF THE REALM HE TURNED ON ME, I’LL RIP HIS HEAD OFF AND FLAY HIM ALIVE!” 

“AINE YOU ARE BURNING THEM!” Grimm yelled. The Radiance (Aine?) exhaled sharply, faint wisps of light surrounding her face. She brought her light back under control, making her form smaller than before. Grimm moved towards the vessel, claws open on either side of his body. But Ghost flinched away, causing him to stop. “Very well,” he mumbled. 

The Radiance huffed again, this time sounding closer to a sigh. “What is a child of the Pale Usurper doing here? Let alone this one?” She turned her gaze on Ghost. “You should not be here, Little Lost Star. Your father should not have sent you so woefully underequipped.” Ghost shook their head no. “Your father did not send you?”

Ghost nodded, sighing, _‘I don’t know why I am here.’_

“Strange,” The Radiance mumbled.

“If I may add, perhaps they are here because you heard their call? If they weren’t sent by the Pale Wyrm, then who’s to say they are affiliated with him?” Grimm suggested. 

The Radiance hummed in thought, a musical sound coming from her wings. “That _is_ a possibility. Tell me, Little Lost Star,” She asked, moving closer to Ghost, who took a step back. “Do you hate the Pale Usurper for what he has done to you? Do you wish for safety? For family?” Ghost hesitated. She was trying to infect them, wasn’t she? She’d infect them, she’d see their siblings through their eyes. She’d kill them. She’d kill them, and everyone, and then Hollow would be sealed away and everyone would die and this would be for nothing--

“Child,” Grimm’s scratchy voice came, grounding them again. They glanced up at him, then the Radiance, not having realized they had been covering their head with their arms. Trying to hide. Of course. “You… _fear_ her, don’t you? My sister.”

Ghost only paused a little before nodding. 

“You… fear me?” The Radiance sounded _hurt_. She floated away again, composing herself. Her feathers puffed out, then settled down again. “I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you, child. As I have said before, if you wish for a family, I am no stranger to taking in the lost. Neither is my dear brother here.” Her wing motioned to the Nightmare King. “He has plenty of experience.” A soft, warm chuckle. 

“Perhaps it is best for the child to awake?”

“You are right, brother. Little Lost Star, my light will always shine for those in need. No mere worm could dampen it.” 

The Dream Realm started to brighten, gold taking over more and more of Ghost’s vision. A feeling of weightlessness overcame them, but so did pleasant warmth. Then, darkness, and the warmth fading. Cold left behind. Cold and dark. Pressing dark.

Pressing dark who bound their arms. They thrashed about as more came into sight. The millions upon millions of broken corpses littering the Abyss. Void floating upward, reaching for the little light at the top just to be cast down again. They couldn’t move, and the Abyss felt too small. There was no sound of siblings, either. They looked up again, seeing white masks, one cracked, and one who wore a red dress. They reached, desperately clawing their way up. Eight white eyes blazed as their claw almost touched--

\--

They woke with a start, body shivering. They were surrounded by the still sleeping forms of their siblings, all of which slept peacefully. They felt as though they were being watched. Was it from their chance meeting with the Radiance herself? Was the Nightmare King’s gaze still on them? Were they even awake?? 

They blinked what little sleep remained from their eyes, and was met with Hornet’s gaze. Their head jerked up, smashing into Hornet’s. Both cried out in pain, Hornet sucking in a breath and Ghost _hissing_ . Since when did they _hiss_? Ghost rubbed where their faces had collided. Hornet toppled over, landing on her bottom. She grumbled to herself, standing and dusting her cloak off. It was a more muted red and looked incredibly soft. It was cute, seeing such a small Hornet try and act dignified.

What wasn’t cute was what she said next. “You,” she said accusingly, jabbing a claw at Ghost, “You did something. What, I don’t know. All I know is I’m remembering things I shouldn’t, feel like my body is too small, and definitely do not have the vocabulary a child of my age should have. What did you _do_ , Ghost?”

They were relieved Hornet remembered their name, remembered _them_ , but then the implications hit them. If Hornet remembered things she shouldn’t (with great clarity), then who else? Did the Radiance? Was she acting nice to try and fool them? But wouldn’t Grimm say something then? What about Hollow? None of their siblings seemed to remember, neither did Herrah. They just had to hope Hornet was an exception. 

Hornet was waiting for an answer still. How would one tell another that they _might_ have reached godhood trying to kill a very angry moth? “Mm, you do not have any paper, do you? Come with me, I have paper and light.” Hornet gestured for Ghost to follow, and they did so, casting a glance back at their siblings before leaving. 

Hornet led them to a room lit by some lumaflies. It was small, with many books lining the walls. Hornet motioned for Ghost to sit, which they did so. She retrieved some blank paper and a quill for them to write with. “Now tell exactly me what you did.” Her eyes burned into Ghost’s shell as they turned away to write out their explanation. Oh if only someone else knew sign language. They supposed Grimm had, but would he know it now? Would other Higher Beings as well, given how old they were?

Ghost focused on the problem at hand. No matter how they framed it, Hornet would probably get very upset with them. Very well. Bring it. “Do you know sign language? I haven’t used it in a while,” she mused to herself. “I’ll have to refresh my knowledge.”

Once they had finished, they handed her the explanation proudly. She snatched it from them with a huff and read over it. “Why is your handwriting actually decent??” She mumbled. Ghost shifted into a more smug looking stance. She rolled her eyes at that. “You… became a god so you could kill the Radiance?” Ghost nodded enthusiastically. “I-- what? You realize this sentence right here requires at least three different explanations, not to mention half of this stuff I don’t even remember. Wyrm carcass? Fighting in Godhome? Saving you from a primal aspid? Wait, I do remember that one.”

Ghost sighed. This was going to take a long _long_ time.

\--

Finally, finally, they were certain this would explain everything Hornet needed to know. It included their first meeting/fight in Greenpath, fighting before the decomposing body that had been the Pale King before he assumed a more… friendly appearance (as close as one could get), of finding the Godseekers and fighting in the Pantheons, and finally fighting the Radiance herself. 

To say Hornet was at a loss of words would be an understatement. It took her several minutes to compose herself, and several more to finally ask another question. “So,” she began, “you travelled back in time to prevent Hallownest from falling? Or, well, to prevent any death. How do you even _plan_ on preventing that? Did you think of that even? What if The Radiance remembers everything? If I could remember, then what’s to say a literal _god_ cannot?” 

Should Ghost mention that they had already talked with her? Yeeaah no, that's just asking for trouble. Hornet stood, hand on her head and another on her side, and groaned. “You just _had_ to mess with time…. What god did you say you became?”

 _The Lord of Shades_.

It felt weird writing it out, like this wasn’t _their_ name (And it wasn’t. Ghost was their name. They were Ghost). Every time they tried to picture themselves as the Lord of Shades, as killing the Radiance as it, they got nothing. Nothing but a vague feeling of not me. They showed it to Hornet with reluctance. “Lord of Shades huh? How do you say that? With your paws? Is there a special way to say it or no?” Ghost showed Hornet how to, she repeating it. They also showed her how to say the names of their siblings, in case she didn't know how, though they suspected she already knew how.

Hornet started to pace around the room, tapping her mask with a claw as she thought. “So what do we do is the question. I suppose I should tell my father--” 

Ghost jumped up and waved their arms frantically. “You _don’t_ want to tell the Pale King? Why?”

Ghost quickly jot down a few words. “Could be dangerous…. Well, he’ll find out eventually, Ghost. You forget that my step-mother’s root systems are vast. She might even know you are already here.” Ghost crumpled. They _had_ forgotten about the White Lady’s roots and how they acted as her eyes. Maybe they were doomed from the start. Hornet paused her pacing, one hand hovering by her chest, but she let it fall. “I’ll… do what I can to protect you and your-- our-- siblings. But seeing as I am currently a pupa, I doubt my say would be treated with much respect.” She laughed dryly. “Apparently I had slept for three days straight after a large fall. Mother and Midwife were worried I’d never awake. And when I did, they said I was spouting nonsense. It’s exhausting, walking beside them, knowing how Hallownest will end up, yet still putting on the façade of some ignorant pupa. I suppose it is better than a larva saying such things.” 

They sat (or stood, in Hornet’s case) in silence for a time. Ghost wondered what time of day it was, or how Deepnest kept track. Hornet moved once again, this time cleaning up the mess of papers Ghost had made from their jumping session. Ghost tugged her arm, then crumpled up one of the papers. “You wish for me to get rid of these?” Ghost nodded. “I-- very well, although I don’t see as to why. You’ll just have to rewrite all of this when the King _does_ finally figure out there’s seven vessels running around instead of one.”

Once she had cleaned, Hornet handed Ghost some more paper, blank, and the quill with its well. “Keep these, in case someone asks you a question or you want to. Now, let’s go sneak back into our rooms before anyone realizes we’re up.”

\--*--

Herrah was up late, as usual. Everyone else in the Beast’s Den had long since gone to bed, but she remained up. Sorting through letters, deciding which to send and which to revise. But her mind kept wandering back to the little vessel, Ghost. Something didn’t sit right with her. Maybe it was the fact Ghost was a vessel clearly expressing emotions. Maybe it was because Ghost had no eyes nor mouth. Maybe it was because that worm had lied.

He had lied about the vessels. He had lied about the future. He can _see_ the future! So why bother with the Hollow Knight Plan if it ends up with everyone dead anyway?! Her mandibles clicked in anger. She took a deep breath in, held it, then let it out again, settling back down on the silk covered ground.

She didn’t know _how_ exactly his foresight worked. And even if he had lied about this plan, even if she no longer wanted any part of it, without it Hornet would not be. So maybe it held some worth, if only to the queen herself. Which brought her mind to the Pure Vessel. It had failed. How so? Did it have an idea instilled? Or was it never pure to begin with? She thought of the times she had seen it, which was, admittedly, few. Still, she swore she saw a hint of life behind its white mask. The mask that doubled as a face for the vessels. Her claw briefly touched her own.

Either way, she was going to help this strange little Ghost fix the future. And if it meant punching the Pale Wyrm in his smug little face, well, she wouldn’t prevent anyone from doing that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter we're gonna take a look at someone else...
> 
> Oh, and yes. Giving names extends to the gods as well. I just... gotta... find a way to put them in.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pale King and the White Lady have a small chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's take a look at some other characters, shall we?
> 
> Also thank you for all the reviews and kudos!! I love reading everyone's comments and always try to respond. You guys mean a lot to me! I decided to post this chapter early because, well, we get Monday off and I just feel better in general. So have a treat :3

Something was… different. Off. The Pale King looked over at the small  child  vessel beside him. As always, it stared straight ahead, awaiting instructions. Nothing seemed the matter with it, hollow as always. But something seemed to bother his Queen. Whenever she looked at the Pure Vessel, she always tore her gaze away.

In the beginning, when he had finally gotten his Pure Vessel, she had looked at it with sadness and pity. Even months of having it in the palace did she look on with only sadness. But now? Now she could not bring herself to look at it, or even speak about it. Truly, something was off. He supposed he should speak with her about it, but he did not want to risk hurting her by asking. He knew what they had done to the eggs had injured her enough. (Personally, he was surprised she had lasted as long as she had with the Pure Vessel living within the palace. He supposed Hornet being around helped. Maybe, since Hornet would be coming back soon, she would start to feel better?)

He sat down the tool he had held in his paws, the broken wingmould still sitting on the table. Hornet had broken this one a while ago and only now was he getting to it. He stood, setting aside his variety of tools, before leaving his workshop, Pure Vessel following loyally as always. For something so small and new, it listened incredibly well. He had expected some learning curve, but this all felt like second nature to him. Maybe it shouldn’t, but he did not have the time to question that, nor did he have time to question the feeling of deja vu he had gotten when the Pure Vessel had ascended. Foresight tended to give those feelings. 

He made his way to his Queen’s section of a palace. He had offered her more room, but she was content with what she had. She had also mentioned her gardens. If she wished for more plants around the palace, he’d welcome it (even if some clashed with the architecture or colors.) At least some of the more travelled hallways were lined with flowers, each hand chosen by the Queen. 

She was most likely in the palace conservatory or palace ground gardens. The palace ground gardens were not as breathtaking as the Queen’s Garden. Everything was much more neat, beauty not the main focus like it was in the Garden. The palace ground gardens were meant simply as backdrop. But her conservatory was as if someone had taken a small section of her Garden and placed it within the palace. She’d most likely be there, then. 

He reached the conservatory and true enough, his lovely White Lady was there, talking with a groundskeeper, probably about flowers or something. She was always adding new breeds, explaining to him their meaning, which he never could quite remember. Nor could he remember the names of most, but he did remember the names of her favorite. Orchids were one of them, and he had to admit, he found them a pretty flower as well.

“My Root,” he started, coming up to his Queen. She turned to look at him, the grounds keeper taking that as their cue to leave. 

“My Wyrm,” she greeted in return, warmly. Unlike any other bug, her eyes shone a brilliant blue. It reminded him of the Blue Lake, pristine, peaceful. She noticed the Pure Vessel standing beside him obediently, and looked at the hanging wisteria.

Neither said anything for some time, enjoying one another’s presence. He watched as she delicately removed a dead leaf from the hanging vines. “I am glad to see you out of your workshop,” she finally said. “It is important to relax.”

He chuckled. “Relax? That is my relaxation, my Root. But I admit, it is nice to be here with you as well.” She smiled at him before moving towards the center of the conservatory. 

“I’ll request some tea for us. Sit with me?” And they two sat down together, gazing at the multitude of plants covering the entire room. He would never wish for this to leave, for her to leave. Which is why he had to speak.

“My Root, I’ve noticed that something seems to be bothering you.”

She was silent, gaze distant for a moment. “If you do not wish to speak about it now, then you do not have to. I would hate to see you hurt yourself talking about--”

“Have we made a mistake?” Was her small voice.

“Pardon?”

“The Pure Vessel. Was it a mistake?”

He didn’t know what she was asking. (Or maybe he did, and maybe he just didn’t want to face it, didn’t want to ask himself. After all, it had given no reason to say otherwise… right?) “I assure you, the vessel is pure. Hollow. Everything Hallownest needs to contain Her and survive.” Root frowned. So that was not the answer she was looking for. 

A retainer arrived with tea, setting it down in front of them and pouring it. Then she was gone, wordlessly, aside from the small bow. “Maybe. You say only those pure would be able to escape the abyss, correct?” Where was she going with this? 

“That is correct, my Root. But I do not see how that relates to whether the Pure Vessel was a mistake or not?”

She hummed and took a sip from her tea. “Remember when Herrah wrote to me?” She dodged. “I think I shall visit her soon and bring Hornet back with me, if she is alright with it.” He also picked up his cup of tea, but did not drink. “Truth be told, I am worried. Hornet slept for three days straight. Who knows what the poor child suffered? I know she is strong, however. Herrah is her mother. Maybe my worry comes from a feeling in my roots there.”

“You felt something in your roots around Deepnest?” He asked, concerned. 

She hummed again, longer this time, considering her words. “I did, my Wyrm,” was all she said. As much as he wished to know  _ what  _ exactly, he didn’t press. If she wished to share it, she would have. He just hoped that, whatever it was, she would tell him if it was truely of concern. If Deepnest was feeling the Infection, more so than it already was with its Nosks (which was widely regarded as a good thing), then it would mean that his time with the Pure Vessel would be coming to an end quickly. (He was shocked to find himself almost wishing that wasn’t the case.)

“Have I ever told you about Hallownest before you arrived?” She asked out of the blue.

“Yes, my Root, you have. You’ve told me just how dreadful it was without me, how alone you felt.”

“Mm. But have I told you about the Ancient Civilization?”

“No, you have not. Why do you ask? Is there something you wish to share with me?”

She looked at him with her blue eyes (he could and would get lost in those.) “Before you arrived, they woke a slumbering god. We called it the Lord of Shades.” He had heard this story before, a warning, from her, when he had first proposed the Hollow Knight Plan. 

“It ravaged the lands. It took the combined forces of all the gods in Hallownest to defeat it, and even then, it required a trick, some luck, and forcing it into slumber.

“But do you know how my roots felt?”

“No.”

“I felt a tingle, at first. Nothing very noticeable or odd. But it was where that tingle was first felt, coldness grew. And it spread, as the Lord of Shades awoke and consumed more and more of Hallownest.” She then looked to the Pure Vessel of all things. “I feel a tingle close to Deepnest.”

“My Root, if this is what you are implying--”

“It is not. I feel a multitude of tingles every day. I feel no chill from this one, but I thought I should tell you nonetheless. Deepnest is close to the Abyss after all.” She stood, then, her tea all but finished. “I have matters to attend to, and a room to arrange.”

“You do promise to tell me if you feel that chill?”

“Of course, my Wyrm, but as I have said, I feel no chill.” She brushed past him, past the Pure Vessel, and past the slight chill in her roots in Deepnest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the next four chapters, we're going to be seeing some other characters. I tried to make it only three chapters before we got Ghost's POV back, but it didn't work out that way sooo
> 
> But hey, new POVs are fun too, right?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hollow runs away and I have a new ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Another update yay! It's been super cold here lately. Uh, anyway, here you go! 2 more chapters, then we're back to Ghost. 
> 
> Also I'm just now realizing how bad my spelling is. Eh, if there's a mistake, sorry but I tried to fix all I found.

They woke to coldness. 

The blankets on them were warm, capturing the little body heat they produced, but the cold they woke to wasn’t something any blanket could protect from.

The cold they woke to was the familiar one. Paired with the familiar pain. They couldn’t help but rub their arm, a reminder that it was there. It was just a bad dream, they reassured themself. Nothing more. But they shouldn’t dream. They shouldn’t be rubbing their arm, remembering the searing heat of Her, dreading their own future.

They were hollow, pure and simple. 

They had to be.

They got up, the cold of the ground helping fully wake them. They didn’t know why they dreamed. They shouldn’t. They shouldn’t even need to sleep. They arranged blankets until their bed looked nice. Father was always very particular about appearances. Mainly everything looking nice and pristine. A bit of warmth from that thought.

They shouldn’t know that.

They were young. (They _were_ young, right? They had escaped the Abyss months ago, _right_ ?) Their paws stuck in the air, still holding the soft blankets in a death grip. (Don’t think don’t think don’t think--). Void leaked from their eye holes, their paws shook. ( _Don’t think don’t think)_

But they were already thinking. They always had been. Since the moment they hatched and heard their father’s pale light beacon, they had thought. They weren’t pure, they could never seal Her away. Both they and Her knew. They looked around their room, small, and would definitely become cramped as they aged. A desk, meant more for setting food and such down then for reading or writing on. A vase of fresh flowers sat on it, no doubt Mother had come by this morning to replace them. Their bed, which was meant to be simple, but their mother had insisted on the branch-like carving in the frame and the soft blankets. Their nail rested on a wall. They looked at it, then. So small, sized to their body. (They remember stabbing it into them, desperately clawing at their own body. It hurt.)

They let the blankets fall, walking over to their nail which hung. High on the wall, it was, but not high enough to be out of the vessel’s reach. With a bit of clever furniture placement, they were able to reach their nail and pluck it from its perch. Why, they didn’t know. After, they held their nail, swinging it once, where it connected with the bedframe causing them to cringe. They placed the chair back where it was, then crept towards the door. 

They had to get out. Had to leave. They loved Father, didn’t want to disappoint, but they knew they weren’t hollow, they’d never be, and staying and having him find out would only disappoint him more. 

Mother would also break, more so than she already had. They didn’t understand why Mother always looked so sadly at them (was it because only they survived? _What about their twin?_ ) Hornet would be upset that her favorite (and only) sibling would disappear. But it would be for the best. 

They weren’t hollow. They weren’t pure and simple. They had left their twin behind to _die_.

They gently nudged the door open, having heard no one on the other side. The palace was waking, it would soon be busy, but the hallway that housed their room was quiet, perfect. (Distantly, they remembered waking far earlier than this. Did Father allow them to sleep in?) Their footfalls were near silent, barely a whisper on the cold white floors. Lumaflies buzzed overhead, creating a low drone. How had they never noticed? 

Their quiet feet brought them to the palace ground gardens. They quickly hid themself, watching as a few keepers mulled about. They were eating, probably. If they wanted to leave, they had to now. And so they darted out, using the bushes as cover. Eventually they had reached the wall. They looked over the grounds. There were more groundskeepers, now. And so they quickly scrambled up the wall, vines growing on it helping them. They passed over the top of the wall, and fell to the other side. They looked up, wondering if perhaps they shouldn’t leave. Maybe they should march right into the main doors. If they left, were they just condemning another vessel, another _sibling_ , to a lonely and painful death? Would it be better for them to be the vessel Father so dearly wanted, if only to spare their siblings? Would that make up for the life they had so selfishly left behind?

They couldn’t stop to ponder that. They had to leave before anyone saw them out. If they were allowed to sleep in, then their fleeing probably wouldn’t be noticed until after someone went to wake them. And so, the fled. Almost. While trying to get to the stag, they saw Mother walk towards it. So no stag. That left one option, since they hadn’t gotten a tram pass yet. The long road and elevator ride to the Blue City, Hallownest’s capital. They started for it. Lurien would be there, and if he saw them, he’d snitch. So don’t get caught by him and get to some other stag station (easier said then done.)

They readied themselves for the grand adventure. No more thinking, you’ll think yourself out of this. Just _go_.

\--*--

Xero marched down the hallway towards the Pure Vessel’s room. A student under Isma and guard of the palace, waking a sleeping baby (vessel, Xero, _vessel_ ) should be no issue. Surely he, Xero, could not screw this up?

But as he approached the room, he saw the door hanging open. Maybe the child vessel got thirsty? He peered into the room. A bed almost carefully made, save for the scrunched up bits of blanket at the very end. A missing nail. And a notch in the bed frame. Either the vessel had been kidnapped… or had decided to run away. Who would kidnap a vessel? Who would kidnap a child of the god-king himself? Who would kidnap a vessel, who is also the child of the god-king, during a plague??

But, the only other alternative was the vessel ran away. And the vessel could not run away. It had no will. Xero should know as a student of Isma (and not because he had eavesdropped that one time.) So the vessel had been kidnapped. That was the only option. Who would kidnap the vessel?

…

HOW WAS HE SUPPOSED TO TELL THE KING AND QUEEN?!?!?!? The queen had already left for Deepnest. It was close, yeah, but there’s a reason couriers who braved Deepnest were paid so handsomely. He had to tell the king first anyway. It was his duty, as loyal warrior of Hallownest. 

He approached the king’s workshop on shaky legs. Oh man, oh man, how come _he_ was the one to tell the king? He knocked, respectfully mind you, on the door. Just for good measure, he called through the door, “M-my king. Something, ah, something happened.” His voice shook and he tried to steady himself. It’s only a missing, potentially kidnapped vessel which was supposed to protect all of Hallownest by containing a raging god! Not a big deal at all!

The door opened and he was met with the Pale King. “Xero?” The King asked. The king’s voice was carefully monotone, except for a small uptake at the end of Xero’s name. The King, worried? Nah! Hehe.

“So, uh, the problem, my king. So I went to awake the vessel and uh…. The vessel wasn’t there.”

“The vessel wasn’t there? Had a knight brought them to early morning training?” Xero hadn’t thought of that. ( _Of course you hadn’t, you never think_ , Markoth’s voice echoed in his mind, complete with the small, almost unnoticeable smile as the other moth shook his head.) 

“Ah, that’s the problem, my king. The _other_ problem. The bed wasn’t fully made and there was a notch in the bed frame.” 

There was a moment of silence before the king cried, “WHAT?!” He rushed past Xero, the warrior moth following closely behind. The king shoved open the door to see the mostly pristine room. He whirled around. “Alert the guards, alert the _queen_. Someone has stolen the vessel.”

\--*--

Trying to reach the Blue City was proving challenging. They had to sneak past the trams, which weren’t very active, but still had guards stationed by them, just in case. Somehow, though, they had managed to slip past and towards the City. The road was mostly devoid of others, aside from the stray sentry, but they were all half asleep and paid no mind to the little vessel walking past. 

They wondered if bringing a nail into the City was a bad idea. They didn’t have time to ponder that, considering they could already hear Father gathering everyone he could to find them. They ran.

They ran to the elevator, and once it had ascended, they ran from it, shocking a few city dwellers at their sudden appearance. They ran past a vacant spot of land in the middle of the city. They ran past the sewer gate. They kept running until the wove their way into the miniscule crowd. They hid among the storefronts, watching. “Eh? Kid where’s yer parents?” A shopkeeper asked, walking over to them. “It's a little early for ya to be out, eh?” She reached for them, and they lashed out, swatting away her paw before running.

Why had they done that? Why had they done that? Hurt someone, shouldn’t have done that, bad, hurt. They dove inside another store, this one more populated then the last. Sentries filled into the outside, searching. Had they really caused this much trouble? “So many sentries…” someone breathed.

“Why are there so many?”

“Did a prisoner escape?”

“They would have warned us if one did.”

“Maybe it’s high profile? Like the Blue City Drowner?”

“They haven’t even _caught_ the Blue City Drowner!”

They didn’t listen to the conversation, watching everything instead. Then they looked over their surroundings. A bookstore which was also offering breakfast to others. The bugs inside were not noble, not by a long shot. They backed away from the group, bumping into a very small bug who _was_ defiantly noble.

“Ah! Oh, are you quite alright? Here, let me help you up,” the bug said, offering a paw. They didn’t know much about nobles, just that they typically weren’t this nice. Still, they obliged the command. (You weren’t hollow. Why listen to others? It won’t change the fact you left them to die.)

“My name is Adaleis, I’m a butler, you see. What is your name strange... bug. Oh dear.” Adaleis dragged them further from the group of onlookers. “I do believe you should not be out here. Lurien was not notified. Did you get separated from a knight? Or did they send you on an errand? Oh why am I asking questions, I know you can’t answer.” 

Adaleis chuckled to himself. “How lucky am I, to be one of few to know of your existence? And how lucky are you, to have met me instead of some other bug?” Adaleis grabbed their paw, patting it. “For whatever reason you are here, it is clear the sentries are in a tizzle and you look a bit lost yourself. Let’s head back to Lurien’s tower. But first, some tea!” 

They pulled away, shaking their head no. Adaleis sighed and faced them again. “I order you to follow me to the Watcher’s Spire, where we will speak with Lurien. Honestly, the king should have made giving commands easier. It feels so wrong saying it like that,” he huffed. They shook their head again.

Now Adaleis’ mouth was agape. “Ahem, I said, follow me to the Watcher--” He didn’t get to finish as they were shaking their head. Again. With more force. “You-- I-- can’t be….” Adaleis turned away. They moved to leave the shop, but Adaleis grabbed their wrist. “No, you can’t go out there! The city is dangerous for young bugs, especially with the Drowner and the Snatcher about. Please, come with me. Let my at least see you to a stag station?” Adaleis eyes flicked over their face, antennae twitching. 

They finally gave in and nodded. Leaving the palace would be best, but someone already knew they weren’t hollow. Adaleis would bring them to Lurien, and Lurien would tell the king. They were proud at how far they had gotten, considering stealth had never been something they had been trained at. “Forget the tea today, hmm?” Adaleis led the way, weaving through the crowd instead of pushing like other nobles. 

But before they could leave the store, Lurien arrived, Watcher Knight in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UwU
> 
> ShootIMightEndUpWritingSideStories
> 
> Markoth/Xero anyone?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hollow continues to flee from the White Palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School got cancelled today so have a chapter!

Lurien had not seen Adaleis and them yet. If they were smart, they could probably get away from the Watcher. Except Adaleis had a different idea. The little beetle dragged them along, shouting, “Lurien! Lurien, over here!” They tried to free themself without hurting Adaleis, but the bug had a surprisingly strong grip. 

The Watcher’s mask turned to look at the pair shoving their way through the crowd. The Watcher Knight ushered the crowd outside so they could not hear whatever was being said. The vessel wiggled in Adaleis’ grasp, looking up at Lurien, then back at Adaleis. “I thought I saw something familiar. What is the Pure Vessel doing out here?” Lurien asked Adaleis.

Adaleis gave them a ‘sorry’ look (traitor) before answering, “One of the palace staff must have given it an order. Good thing we found it though, right? Now lets head back to the palace--” (Oh.)

“Adaleis, it’s  _ squirming _ .”

“Oh, right!” Adaleis let go, casting a glance back at the vessel. They stood tall, looking right up at Lurien. The last Dreamer they wanted to see. But maybe it was for the best. Maybe Father should decide what to do. (Maybe they should return to the Abyss. It’s what the deserve, after all. Would their siblings welcome them?)

“The Pure Vessel shouldn’t be out here alone. No retainer should be ordering it around. Especially with…. Well, I’m glad you found it. Pure Vessel, whatever command you have been given, I am overriding it with the authority as a Dreamer. You will return to the White Palace with me.”

They looked up at Lurien, wondering what was behind that mask (Don’t do that. Don’t think. But they already know you aren’t hollow. What’s the point now?) Then, they shook their head no. Lurien jerked back like he had been slapped.

“Wh-what? Has the Pale King not told you of order hierarchy? Well, new orders. Come with.” Again they shook their head. 

“I already tried that, sir. The Pure Vessel, I’m afraid,” Adaleis lowered their voice, despite not needing too. “I’m afraid it isn’t pure.”

Lurien shook is head pacing, paws on his mask, framing it. “No, no, that can’t be. If it could ascend, if the King chose it…. Are you saying the King chose wrong?” A moment of silence as the black dot gazed at Adaleis. “Maybe it became impure somehow. We need to tell the King at once.”

Now was their chance. Lurien was distracted, the Watcher Knight was still taking care of the crowd. They should run. They had to. And they did, again. They dashed past Lurien who yelled in surprise, shoving their way through the crowd. “STOP RUNNING! AFTER IT!” They heard Lurien shout, and they could feel the ground pound as the Watcher Knight chased after. 

They kept running. They loved Father and Mother, but returning would only cause problems. They should leave Hallownest altogether. They rounded a corner, sliding as they momentarily lost traction. But the Watcher Knight slid even more. They leapt, grabbing hold of a ledge and hauling themself up. They leapt and grabbed another, careful of the spikes that lined the city’s rooftops. They kept climbing, could feel the Watcher Knight’s eyes on them. Distance, distance, put some distance in the way.

They were on the rooftops now. They ran along the ledges. The buzz of sentry wings Curious onlookers upturned faces. They danced around the spikes, looking up to see a sentry aiming their lance. They leapt to another rooftop. They pulled themselves up and kept running. A lance went by their mask, embeded in the rooftop. 

The buzzing was louder. They could still hear the pounding feet of the Watcher Knight. Another lance. They jumped, paw outstretched, reaching for the next ledge.

They collided into the ledge, claws digging into the metal. They dangled there, claws keeping them anchored. They couldn’t get themselves up. (Looking at their twin, dangling there. They watched, then turned towards the pale light. They left, they left, they left.) They had one option. Fall.

And so they did.

They plumeted down, watching the ground come closer and closer. If they used their wings, they could cushion the fall. If they twisted their body, they would land on their feet. They twisted, flapped their wings, and made a graceful landing. They took a moment to collect themsel- 

_ WHAM! _

_ CRACK! _

They went flying, colliding with the wall. Their body slumped down, searing pain in their mask. Their nail came loose, clattering beside them. A heavy sentry stood in front of them, while the other sentries caught up. A few flying ones landed, while others hovered. They were caught. 

The Watcher Knight came stomping by. The knight grabbed them by their cloak, eyeing them. “You’ve caused quite tha bit o’ trouble,” she said in a gruff voice. “If it were’nt fer Lurien, I’d toss ya inta jail.” They stared right back at the Watcher Knight. 

“What’s Lurien want with such a little thing?” One sentry asked.

“Better question, what did they do to get a Watcher Knight sent after them,” another said.

“Or one of the Great Knights,” the heavy sentry mumbled. But no one else heard. The sentries started to theorize why they would have a watcher knight sent after them. During their debate, Lurien finally caught up, with Adaleis doing his best to keep up. The butler wheezed. 

“Thank you Rotan. Sentries, we can take it from here,” Lurien thanked, nodding at the Watcher Knight who saluted back. The sentries shared glances then dispersed. “Are you going to run away again?” Lurien asked. They shook their head no. “Rotan.” The Watcher Knight, Rotan, set them down. 

The little group watched each other for a moment. And then Lurien exploded. “Do you know the trouble you’ve caused?! I  _ should  _ be able to say that no, you don’t. But I don’t know if I can say that anymore!” Lurien threw up his paws and groaned, pacing back and forth. “You aren’t pure, are you? You aren’t hollow. If you were, you wouldn’t have fled.” He pointed finger at the vessel. Rotan patted Lurien on the back softly. 

“We should get back to the palace,” Adaleis said quietly.

Lurien’s mask turned to face the butler. “Yes. Rotan, escort us to King’s Station. Afterwards, return to the Spire.”

“Alright, Watcher.”

“Let’s go.”

They grabbed their nail first, which Rotan didn’t seem to like, and holstered it before following slowly, dragging themself. They hadn’t wanted to get caught, but at least Father would know they aren’t pure. At least Father could choose someone more deserving. Someone who didn’t let their own twin  _ die _ .  _ But they are alive. They are and you tried to kill them _ .

\--*--

He had returned to his workshop, pacing around the dimly lit room. This room was gray. Not gray due to the lack of light, but gray due to the void that stained it. 

And colored gray from the sins within.

His wings buzzed aggressively as he paced, claws tapping on either the void-stained tiles or his own face. He knew he should be out looking, he knew he should look to the future and see the outcomes. He knew he shouldn’t have left the vessel unattended. But he was a fool. A terrible, terrible fool. He chuckled at himself. Head then twisted to peer at the table, broken wingmould still lying on it, still waiting to be fixed. But he’d never fix it.

He slammed his paws onto the table, body shaking, claws digging into it. He was a king, a god. He could not break, he could not cry or doubt. Not even alone. For that would be to admit weakness and he could not do that. 

He set his jaw, eyes glazing over as he peered into the future. Timelines sprawled out in front of him, twisting and intertwining with one another in a seemingly pattern-less fashion. He did not look further than the ones closest to him, did not look far down their ends. Still he could see the orange glow of the Radiance. He could see how it would end. The end burned into his memory, reliving his death over and over again, even if he didn’t die in that timeline. Root did, or Hornet did, or Hallownest did, and he died with them, if not in person, than in spirit. 

Of course, there was the timeline where the void finally claimed revenge on him. Sitting atop his throne, nothing more than a husk of what was, overseeing, ruling, the ruins of a long dead kingdom. He’d linger on that one, replaying it over and over, the sweeping cold freezing his limbs as his light was snuffed out. He had no chance to cry out suffering before his voice was gone. Fitting.

But he was not here to linger on future regrets. He was here to find his child. He grasped the timelines closest, the timelines most likely to play out, and looked, tracing the strings in his paws. The Blue City, The Blue City, The Blue City. They all agreed on The Blue City. He let the darker ones fall away. The ones where his child spills their void out onto the pavement. The ones where his child dies in his arms. He focused on the closest, holding it closely and examining it. It faded into the dark at the end, consumed and marred by void so he may never read it. But right now he could, he could see what lie in it’s near future.

Vessel, returned, with only a few cracks and dents. Lurien would return the vessel and the King would fix them. He’d… he’d walk the vessel and he’d…. 

No one had given the orders to the vessel, he knew. And he knew it was only a matter of time before they would both slip up. But if every timeline ended in death, why should he fight against it? 

He released that string to see the bigger picture. To see just how much orange consumed everything. And he found… darkness. Peaceful darkness. Faintly glowing strings suspended in the murk, no burning orange light to bring about the end. It was still there, yes, on some timelines. But he could see it fading. Or eaten, rather, by the void darkness. The mist, the fog, the cloud of nothing blocking his sight more and more. Had he traded one god for another, he worried, looking into the darkness that settled over Hallownest’s future. Or perhaps the burning light wasn’t fading, but his foresight was. Taken by the void that stained his paws. (It stained more, he knew. Only a matter of time before it took his light. That was the most likely end for him.)

Timelines fell away, settling on Lurien returning to the White Palace, carrying with him the vessel. The king breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever the future held, he’d deal with then. For now, all that mattered was the vessel. All that mattered was his child. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been listening to the Ori soundtrack while writing this. It slaps okay?? It also made me cry but that isn't important--


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herrah and the White Lady have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this fic so far! I love every one of you!

_ These children are very energetic _ , Herrah observed, taking a sip from her tea as the children rolled around within the throne room. She gave them some shellwood nails to mess around with. Falcer was a natural born fighter. They struck fast and hard, but over extended and left themself vulnerable. Dryya would love to make that one her student. Lost was fighting against Falcer with much ferocity, darting in and out. Mothwing was… well Mothwing was asleep on her lap. It seemed the child already liked Herrah. 

Hornet was beside Herrah, fiddling with some silk and cloth. Herrah had recently started teaching her to sew and she was coming along nicely. That bump seemed to have made her better, even. She took her time, careful with each stitch. It was nice seeing Hornet be more careful and precise, but also odd. Perhaps she had learned something from her time sleeping. 

“Honeydrop, may I see your progress?” She asked, lowering one paw down. Hornet looked up at her, then her handiwork, before giving it to Herrah. The Beast held it up, looking at the stitching. A simple dress, colored dark blue. “This is very nice, Hornet. Keep practicing and you’ll be making all of your clothes.” She gave the dress back to Hornet to finish. A loud  _ whack  _ brought Herrah’s attention to the children. Lost had smacked Falcer hard with the shellwood nail and was now trying to console them. Something leaked from Falcer’s eye holes. Something that didn’t look like tears. Herrah set Mothwing down gently before rushing to Falcer’s side. 

She gently scooted Lost away so she could fully assess Falcer. She saw no cracks, no dents. But what leaked from their eyes still worried her. “Falcer, are you alright?” She asked, placing a gentle claw on their mask. The child turned their head upward, arms extending and claws reaching. She picked up the child, holding them closely and shushing them. “It will be alright,” she said as she held the child close. Lost looked up at Falcer with guilt. “Lost, you should apologize to your sibling.” 

She wasn’t sure if the child actually did, but Falcer seemed to calm down. Whatever leaked from their eyes stopped falling so quickly and she set them back down. “Be more careful next time, alright? I know you didn’t mean to hurt Falcer, but you’ve got to be more aware of the power you use,” she chastised with a wave of her claw. Both children gave a nod and she returned to her throne. Mothwing leapt back into her lap as soon as she sat down. She looked over at Mimic, a Devout teaching them how to read and write. She should check up on Thread. The little child had seen a Weaver and had pointed. With a bit of charades, Herrah had figured Thread wanted to be with them. 

A child of the Pale Wyrm learning to be a Weaver. A funny thought. Perhaps she would find a mentor for the child. They may not be able to spin their own silk, but, on the chance Hornet wouldn’t have been able to, they’d just use silk made by other spiders or Weavers. She took another sip of her tea. Ghost was probably still asleep. She didn’t want to disturb the child, either. They had gone through so much already, even if she still didn’t want to fully believe it. The next Dreamer Meeting, she would have to request to leave. And if the Wyrm said no, she wouldn’t hesitate to punch him in his face, father of Hornet, King of Hallownest, God or not, she’d relish it. She took another sip.

Falcer and Lost were back at play fighting, more careful with their swings. It was good to see them playing again. She supposed Hornet may want to join. “Hornet, would you like to fight with Falcer and Lost?” Her child looked up at her again. She was being unusually quiet the past couple of days. Perhaps it was from her fall. Or perhaps Herrah should have that looked in to. 

“Uh, can I finish this?” She asked.

“Of course.”

She would never pass up an opportunity to duel, unless something was bothering her. Herrah frowned underneath her mask. She was going to ask what was bothering her little spiderling when a Devout came rushing in, nearly tripping over their own claws. “My Queen!” He cried, not even giving Herrah the appropriate. bow. Something was very very wrong. She set Mothwing down, standing tall. “The Queen of Hallownest has arrived and she’s requested audience with you!” Root? Here? With no letter warning? Herrah grabbed her needle as she strode out the door. Root was already waiting by the stag elevator, Dryya a few steps behind, paw resting on nail hilt.

The spider queen crawled up to the Hallownest queen. Herrah gave no bow, no greetings. “Something is wrong, isn’t it Root? For what other reason would you appear with no warning beforehand? I have not even had time to make tea.” Hopefully the Devout would hide the vessels. Herrah would make sure to bring Root to the small web filled gardens anyway. 

Root gave Herrah greetings, a small dip of her head. “There is nothing wrong, Herrah.” 

“Stagshit!” Herrah hissed before lowering her voice. Dryya made no move even as Herrah hissed, still standing loyally, though the spider could see Dryya’s claws tense on the hilt of her nail. “Root, you know you can tell me. If it’s sensitive information, we can speak in the gardens.” The Queen gazed at Herrah for a moment, blue eyes sparkling in the low light, before nodding. Herrah lead the way down to the gardens, leaping down each platform. She reached the bottom, looking up as Root and Dryya finished their descent. The path to the gardens was lit by pale grass. 

And the gardens itself was filled with faintly glowing plants. Mushrooms, vines, and grasses. A bit of water crisscrossed the garden, with webs placed strategically, holding up lumafly-filled lanterns. A bench rested within one part of the garden, but there were other tables as well. While it was certainly no Queen’s Garden, or even White Palace Garden, it was Deepnest’s garden, and that was enough. The two queens settled beside their usual table, Dryya standing beside the Hallownest queen. A few Devout and even a stray Weaver tended to the garden. The Weaver was stringing up new webbing which glowed faintly. Though none approached the two queens. Herrah’s needle rested beside the spider queen. “Root,” the spider began.

“How is Hornet?” Root rushed. “You’ve written saying she was awake. We are sorry it took us so long to respond. And we are sorry we did not send proper warning of our arrival.” Her branches ruffled against each other.

_ All this fuss over Hornet?  _ “Hornet is doing… well. However, she had been more quiet recently, and had turned down the opportunity to duel. I wonder if she inherited something from her father other than her coloration.”

Both mused over this. Hornet with foresight. A terrifying sight to behold. Herrah would have chuckled, if not for the anxiety she could sense from the White Lady. “It is good to hear she is doing well. The White Palace certainly misses her, though we suppose Deepnest has missed her as well, during her slumber. If it would be alright with you, when we leave, we wish to take Hornet back with us.” 

Herrah considered this, turning it over in her mind. She would still like to have Hornet within Deepnest until she was absolutely sure her daughter would be alright. But perhaps it would be best for Hornet to visit her Father and Step-Mother, especially if she really was developing foresight. With a sigh, Herrah relented, waving a paw saying, “If Hornet agrees, very well. But if she wishes to return home, bring her home as soon as possible. No warning is needed.”

“Of course.” There was something else lingering in the air. Dryya glanced around nervously, then leaned towards Root to whisper something. Root whispered something back, her claws twisting in her clutched paws. Root straightened out, unclenched her paws. “Have you noticed anything… strange as of late?”  _ Strange? Strange how? Six vessels showing up with one from the future strange?  _

Herrah thanked her mask for covering her face not for the last time. “Aside from the Infection? No,” she lied. She hated lying. A spider shouldn’t lie. Worms, they lie. But, despite knowing she could trust Root, she felt keeping the children a secret would be for the best. And if Root did find out about them? Herrah would fight to protect them. And Root didn’t need to know about Ghost being from the future. 

Root frowned. “We would like to see Hornet,” she said, rising from her seat. 

Herrah rose as well. “I’ll have a Devout fetch her. She may very well be asleep or running around the Den somewhere.” She’d also tell the Devout to wide the vessels, if they hadn’t yet. Hopefully the children would realize that hiding was for their own good. Herrah beckoned for one of the Devouts. He approached, clicking his question. “Make sure Hornet is in the throne room, and hide the vessels. Fetch us when you’ve done both.” Herrah instructed in the native language of Deepnest, something Root did not know. The Devout headed off. Herrah brought her attention back to Root. “The Devout will return once Hornet is back in the throne room. Is there anything else you’d like to share?” Herrah prodded, sitting back down again. 

Root sighed and sat down again. Dryya eyed Herrah as she traced the edge of her needle with a claw. “There is… something else, though we are still unsure about it.”

“Is it what troubles you? If so, then share, even if you are unsure.”

Root’s eyes twinkled as she looked at the darkness around them. “How many folktales do you know?” Root shook her head. “No, let us rephrase that. How much  _ history  _ do you know? About Hallownest before the days of my husband.”

“Hallownest before the Wyrm’s rule? I know of folktales that originate from that time. Why?” Herrah asked, setting her needle aside again while tapping her mask in thought. 

“Tell us what you know first. Anything concerning the Abyss.”

_ The Abyss _ . Weavers had some tales, some she had to pry from them at a young age. Despite the proximity to Deepnest, very few legends surrounded it. Most, if not all, tales of warning, to never go into  _ that  _ dark. “There are… some I am familiar with. Most of the legends agree that, while the darkness is safe for us spiders, the darkness of the Abyss sucks the very soul out of a being.”

Root hummed as she nodded. The Devout returned, telling Herrah that Hornet was waiting and the vessels were safely hidden away. Then the Devout scurried off. “We will have to continue this conversation another time as Hornet is waiting for us,” Herrah announced, standing. Whatever was bothering Root, Herrah wouldn’t be learning today. All she knew was the Abyss bothered Root. Herrah led the way back up, helping Root and Dryya ascend towards the Den. They entered, Herrah giving her needle back to a Devout. Hornet was no longer sewing, instead she was fiddling with some silk, wrapping it around and around her claws before tying random knots. 

Hornet noticed their entrance and looked up. “Gendered Child,” Root said warmly, arms outstretched to hold the spiderling close. Hornet wiggled in her grasp, trying to get away. “We have been so worried about you. We hope you are doing well. After all, the White Palace is so very lonely without you and we all miss you greatly.” Root released Hornet. 

“My child, if you wish, you may return to the White Palace with your step-mother. However, if you feel homesick or sick in general, you may come home at once, no forewarning required,” Herrah said, kneeling down and placing a claw on either of Hornet’s shoulders. “Of course, you do not have to go. But you may if you wish.”

Hornet considered this, before starting to say something. But before she could, a little ghost came tumbling down from the ceiling, bound in silk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started writing notes for myself on what I want the chapter to cover. A little outline for each chapter. It's surprisingly useful. I also learned what the royal we was. Thanks Hopestoryteller!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost and Sibs meet the White Lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter. Enjoy! :)

Ghost hadn’t  _ meant  _ to fall. They had been careful, very careful, stepping on the cross beams lightly, looking through the silk ceiling, down at Hornet and Herrah and the White Lady. Their curiosity had gotten the best of them as they took a step too far out and the silk had given out underneath them, wrapping them up as they tumbled.

They fought against the silk that clung to them, arms pinned to their sides. The room was dead silent until they heard the White Lady let out choked sobs. They wiggled their body until they could see her, on her knees, paws over her mouth as she cried. They stopped moving entirely, just looking at her. 

Herrah moved past the two, cutting Ghost free of the silk. “So much for that,” they could hear her mumbled. They stood, picking a bit of silk off of themself. Then up they looked at their mother’s blue eyes. They should take a step forward, they should take a step back. They should run. Grab their siblings and run. (Of course they screwed it up. They messed everything up. And now someone would die because of them.)

Herrah grabbed Ghost’s paw gently, leaning in. “Little one, you should go to her,” she whispered gently. She left room for argument, but made her wish clear. Go to the White Lady, show her she hadn’t failed as a mother already. Ghost eyed the White Lady. She had never been cruel to them. She had even given them a gift. But she had let her children die. She had married the Pale King and did not stop him. She was still  _ complacent _ . 

But she was also fragile. 

She looked so, so fragile. Not at all like the powerful god who healed those in need and who fought against them-- That didn’t happen. That didn’t  _ happen _ . Ghost shook their head, returning to Herrah’s embrace. No, no. She let them die, she let them. She tried to kill them. No no no. Herrah’s claws stroked their back as they squeezed the spider. 

“Root, when you asked if anything strange had happened recently, I may have streched the truth some--”

“Are there more?” The White Lady asked. Her voice sounded so desperate. Ghost risked a peak, seeing the tears leaving trails on the Lady’s face. 

Herrah was silent, leaning down to Ghost again. “It is up to you to decide what she knows,” the Spider Queen said. She stayed crouched down, but was looking up again. “If more have escaped, I would not know.”

She should know. She shouldn’t know. She had let them,  _ all of them _ , die. But didn’t their siblings deserve to choose? Their grip tightened, feeling the fabric around Herrah’s mask in their claws. If it was up to them, she could go her entire immortal life never knowing there were more children alive. She didn’t deserve that, since she had let them die. But it wasn’t their decision alone. Reaching out for their siblings, they asked,  **_“Would you want to meet our mother?”_ **

**_“White Lady?”_ **

**_“The Root?”_ **

**_“Mother?”_ **

A chorus responded, all deciding and fighting. 

**_“Not mother. She let us die.”_ **

**_“Mother misses us, right?”_ **

**_“Herrah’s mom!”_ **

Ghost should tell Herrah about that last one. Mothwing seemed to really like her. But right now they needed an answer.  **_“Who wishes to meet White Lady?”_ ** They waited. And waited. 

**_“Where are you? Throne room?”_ ** Lost guessed.

**_“Yes,”_ ** Ghost responded with. They felt Lost’s poke of approval and waited some more. And then, tumbling down the stairs leading up deeper into the Den came their siblings. All five of them. Mimic was first, dashing past everyone, leaping down the stairs until they were safely down. They stared up at the White Lady. Then they approached, reaching out to her. She scooped them up, holding back a choked sob.

“Child. Our child.  _ My _ ... children,” she murmured, looking over the rest of the kids. Mothwing hid behind Lost. Ghost could feel the spite from Lost. Falcer was dragging Thread over to the White Lady, Thread a bit nervous to be meeting their mother. The White Lady reached out towards Thread and Falcer, brushing her paw across Falcer’s then Thread’s face. Mimic crawled up her shoulder, using her many branches as a pawhold while they sat. The White Lady scooped up Thread next, pacing them on her other shoulder. Falcer ran out of her range before she could grab them. She laughed.

Herrah gentled pried Ghost off of her before walking over to Mothwing. She leaned down to talk with the vessel. Mothwing held Herrah’s claw as they cautiously approached the White Lady. “What are… do they have names?” She asked Herrah. Mothwing reached out tentatively, claws brushing against the White Lady’s dress. She stroked their head, careful of their horns. 

Herrah nodded, answering the Lady’s question, “Of course they do, Root. This one is Mothwing.” She pointed towards Mimic first, then Thread, then Falcer and Lost, telling Root each vessel’s names. “And the last one is,” Herrah left off, waiting for Ghost to fill the silence.

Ghost lifted their paws, signing,  _ ‘Ghost.’  _ Their paws dropped to their sides again. The White Lady reached out towards Ghost. They flinched, again. Her paws hovered, then continued until Ghost was in her arms. Falcer trilled happily as they ran around Hornet. Ghost was tense within their mother’s arms, but she held them so kindly, so close. Her arms were warm and her long robes were soft. They nuzzled against her, appreciating the touch. 

“Would you… would any of you like to return to the palace with us-- with me? Would you like to call me… mother?” She asked the vessels. Falcer stopped chasing Hornet and looked at the White Lady. They then shook their head furiously. Mimic clapped their paws together in agreement, and Thread copied. The Lady smiled again, setting down Ghost so she could open her arms. Falcer, Mimic, and Thread all ran into her hug. She released them and looked to Ghost, Lost, and Mothwing. 

**_“She let us die,”_ ** Lost said, eyes narrowing as they looked at the Lady.  **_“Would rather not call her mother. But, if you say so, Ghost, then I could learn.”_ **

Ghost shook their head.  **_“The choice is yours. I’m sure you could stay with Herrah instead.”_ **

**_“Want to be with siblings! If triplets go, I go,”_ ** Mothwing stated. Lost sighed.

**_“It is settled, then. We go with White Lady. Maybe… maybe she can prove herself worthy,”_ ** Lost decided.

Ghost stepped forward, making sure to gain Root’s attention.  _ ‘Siblings will go with you, but not all will call you mother.’ _

Root nodded silently. “I would not expect to be called that by the children I had let die. But I ask you to let me prove myself worthy of that title.” 

“As with Hornet, if any of the children wish to come back to Deepnest, no warning is needed. Just send them. Deepnest will always be a home for them, and I will gladly let them call me mother, or whatever else they wish,” Herrah reminded, before giving a small bow to the vessels. Ghost and Lost both gave Herrah a bow back. “Oh, and Root? I wish to speak with your husband. See if he can arrange a Dreamer Meeting soon.”

Root nodded and stood, holding Mothwing. “Let us return to the palace. We have plenty of spare rooms to make into your bedrooms. Oh, and Hornet? I have a gift waiting for you at the palace.”

\--*--

The Pale King met Lurien by the stag station. The butterfly walked in the front, with Adaleis bringing up the rear. The vessel walked just a bit behind Lurien. “My king,” Lurien stated, bowing. “We found the vessel in The Blue City--”

He wasn’t listening, kneeling down and holding the vessel’s head in his paws. He moved it to different angles, taking in the damage. Cracks spiderwebbed around it’s mask, but no void seemed to leak. “My king?” The Pale King let go of the vessel, standing once again.

“Thank you, Lurien, for returning the vessel to the palace. I will take it from here.”

“My king, there is something you need to know. My king!”

He took the vessel by the paw, guiding them towards the palace, completely ignoring Lurien. They crossed the threshold, entering the palace. He had to fix those cracks before it got worse. He would  _ not  _ let the vessel die so close to safety. Just a few more minutes and they’d be at the workshop. That limp added to the time, however... “My king!” Lurien grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing him to turn around. He leveled a glare with the butterfly.

“Lurien,” he said, voice a careful monotone, “Let me tend to the vessel’s wounds first. Wait for me in the meeting room. I will be with you shortly.” He motioned towards the hallway which held the meeting room before turning around again, speeding up his walking speed. Maybe he should listen to him, but there was still the chance of the vessel dying hovering in the air. 

He walked towards the workshop, deserted hallway growing increasingly cold. The light from the lumaflies started to dim, or at least seemed to. His light still shone brightly. The Pure Vessel walked obediently beside him, cracks littering its mask. He could see a bit of void start to leak from it. Not to mention the limp which was only increasing. But it was strong, it could walk on it, even if it slowed them. Still, leaving the Pure Vessel in this state...

He knew he shouldn’t have done this, but he did anyway. He stopped walking, and so did the vessel, staring ahead. He glanced around the hallway first before he gently picked the vessel up. He knew it was cold to the touch, but he still wasn’t prepared for the shock of cold on his chest. For a moment he just held the vessel in the dimly lit hallway. His light dimed some as he shifted to hold the vessel even closer and his eyes closed.

He knew the vessel would not show him affection, would not show him love, for it was incapable of such feelings. At that he felt sadness. Not even Hornet had made him want to so desperately have a child with his Root. To grant her that wish. He did love the spiderling, yes, but she was still the Beast’s child, and the Beast did not like him. The Beast was not the Root and Hornet lived within two palaces. To have a child to truly call Root and his. Oh how wonderful the idea!  _ I am so sorry Aspen, that the child you got was this. Perhaps, in a different life, we could have had a child. Or as many children as you wanted _ . He smiled sadly. 

Then he felt a bump on his chin. He opened his eyes and looked down. The Pure Vessel was nuzzled underneath his chin, paws wrapped around his sides. He could feel the vessel’s slight trembling underneath his paw. Oh root and dirt. He felt something in his heart break as the vessel turned its head to look at him. Burning tears slid from the corners of his eyes as he tried, so desperately, to not break right then and there. His body shivered under the weight. 

He inhaled and continued to walk towards his workshop, doing his best to ignore his increasingly blurry vision, or the little vessel nuzzled against him. He drifted into the room, gently setting the vessel down on the table. The vessel stared vacantly ahead, but it wasn’t vacant, was it? It wasn’t hollow, wasn’t pure. He reached out with shaking paws, gently resting them on either side of the vessel’s mask. (He supposed he should name them. He couldn’t just toss them back into the Abyss. All those eggs cast into it. How many lives had he condemned? How many shells littered the floor?) 

Blinking away tears, he focused. Focused on the vessel in front of him. Focused on the cracks spiderwebbing across their mask. And then across the entire body, to what caused the vessel to limp. To the dented chitin on they’re back. He focused on mending it, bringing the pieces back together, sealing away the void that made up the vessel’s body. The void that had stolen away a child’s life before they had a chance to live it. The void that had stolen this child’s voice. The void that stained his paws. 

The cracks and dents on the vessel’s body mended themselves together. His paws lingered on the mask, and he stroked it with a thumb. The other set of arms were clasped together, paws woven together tightly, claws digging into the chitin. The vessel looked at him. They could express no emotions on their mask, not even having eyes. And yet the King could tell just how much the vessel trusted him, loved him, even. “You aren’t hollow,” he choked, “You never were.” The vessel watched him, then, ever so slowly, raised a hesitant paw, reaching out to try and touch the King. Their little claws outstretched, reaching for  _ him _ .

He broke.

He crumbled, upper arms retracting to hold his face, lower braced on the table. He cried and cried, sobs wracking his body. How could he ever have thought the Hollow Knight Plan would work? He should know his kingdom was doomed to fall. His foresight told him such. That every plan would fail. That only the Hollow Knight Plan had a slim chance of success. He had latched on to that one slim possibility. Fool. That was what he was. A fool. A fool who hurt his dear Aspen every day, forcing her to look at the hollow corpse of her child. But the child wasn’t hollow. 

How could he ever think this would work? How could he condemn so many children? He didn’t even know how many lives were lost. Hundreds? Thousands? He could only hope it was a small number. He didn’t think he could stomach the idea he allowed millions of his own children die. He should see if any had survived. If even one….

A cold paw touched his arm. He looked up, vision blurry, to see the Pure Vessel resting a paw on his arm. His shaking paws reached out, plucking the vessel off the table and holding them close. The vessel wrapped their arms around him, their hold tight as the Pale King sobbed. His body shook, breathing ragged. Stupid, stupid. How hurt was this child already? How could he live with himself? The blood of his children was on his paws twice over. How could he? How could he?

He fell to his knees, clutching them close, paws cupping the back of their head, or wrapped around their little body. This poor, little, lonely child without voice. Without a voice because of him. The Pale King managed to rein in his sobs, now choked tears that would sporadically fall and wreck his body. He would swallow these emotions, just as he had his guilt. He had to, not for the kingdom, but for his child. He had to be strong for them. He’d have to find some other way to deal with the Infection now. He set the vessel down on the floor, holding his paws on either side of its face. “My child. My precious child,” he murmured. “You need a name…”

He had toyed with the idea of having a child before. He had thought of different names before. His Root had even offered some offhand one day, which he still remembered. Marya, Cassia, Selyyn. All beautiful names. But no, he would let this child choose. It was the least he could do. He would help them find a name, but he would not give it to them. They would choose. Their first act of their own will would be their name. “There are several I feel would fit you, but it-- it is your-- choice.” His words still caught in his throat. He cleared it, standing. He could write a list of names, then have the vessel point to them? But would he still be limiting their choice? If only they could write. 

Could they write? They had watched him write before. He had even pointed out different words to them. He looked at the little vessel before grabbing some paper and a quill. He set them down in front of them. “If you can, please, write the name you wish to be called. And if not, I will write a list, though you are not limited to those names.”

They looked up at him before grabbing the quill. They looked down at the paper again before slowly and carefully scratching out some shaky letters. So they  _ could  _ write, even if their handwriting was not the best. They could work on that. They would. He’d let them write as much as they wanted, or read as much as they wanted, or do  _ whatever  _ they wanted as much as they wanted. They held up the paper, a single word written on it.

**‘Hollow.’**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hornet gets a gift and the Pale King shares a moment with Hollow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait to publish this. Plus, this is the end of my third quarter sooooooo why not? And fuck it, you'll get a chapter tomorrow too.
> 
> Also be warned, I have not fixed any spelling or grammar mistakes because I'm posting this from my phone and its Hard.

#  **Chapter 9**

The ride to the palace was very eventful, to say the least. Hornet’s siblings crawled all over the poor stag, even after Aspen (Step-Mother? Aspen. Root?) got after them. Hornet only rolled her eyes as they continued to get into trouble. But, thankfully, they reached the White Palace in record time. Probably because the stag couldn’t take all the children climbing on him. Atleast Ghost behaved well. Then again, they had ridden the stags many times before. Or would. 

Hornet slipped off the stag first, landing lightly on the ground. She looked over her shoulder as the White Lady slipped off the stag, taking Dryya’s offered paw. She then turned to help the rest of the vessels down while Dryya retrieved the small bag Hornet had packed. It wasn’t much. Just a few cloaks, the project she was working on, and a shellwood needle. Try as she might, she knew Mother wouldn’t let her bring her real needle. It took a lot of convincing to let her bring it on the short hunting trip to begin with.

“What are you going to do about, you know,  _ him _ ?” Dryya whispered to the queen. Hornet probably shouldn’t be listening in to this conversation, but she also didn’t want to be left in the dark. And didn’t she always eavesdrop? 

“We will worry about that when the time comes, though I doubt anything too bad will happen,” the White Lady said, waving a paw. Falcer rushed over Hornet, shoving past her as they ran towards the palace. The Lady laughed, saying behind a paw, “My, aren’t they excited?” She then walked past Hornet towards the White Palace, carrying Thread in one paw and holding Mimic’s in the other. 

The spiderling watched before Dryya knelt down. “Are you worried about being replaced, little one? I’m sure Aspen loves you just as much as she does those vessels, if not more so. Come on, she’s been very exicted about giving you this gift.” The Great Knight offered her paw to Hornet, but the spiderling refused it, walking in front. She heard Dryya mumble a “suit yourself,” before following. Ghost fell in beside Hornet, both keeping an eye on their siblings and the White Lady. 

She could tell Ghost was anxious. Truth be told, she was too. She fumbled with a bit of silk, running it between her claws as she thought of all the possible ways this could go wrong. Father could take the vessels and cast them into the Abyss. The Infection could increase in intensity. Aspen could crack under the weight of these children and leave. 

She glanced over at Ghost. 

Their claws tapped against the pale tiling. What had they gone through? What did they remember that she could not? Obviously they both remembered the Infection and the fall of Hallownest. But the other vessel, Mothwing, she remembered them as well. She remembered Greenpath, a fight, and…. She tied the silk into a knot, slowing her breathing once again. She eyed the retainers as they walked past. Said retainers stopped whatever they were doing to stare at the small haunting of vessels. “What are you looking at? Don’t you have something to do?” She snapped at them and they quickly went back to whatever they had to do.

“Hornet,” The Lady said dissapprovingly. “Remember, we don’t yell at others.”

Hornet rolled her eyes, catching Ghost’s raised paws. “Worried about Father?” She asked them softly. They nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

They signed something too quick for Hornet to decipher. “What? You need to sign slower, Little Ghost. My knowledge is a bit old and unused.”

They slowed their signing, taking their time so she knew each sign.  _ ‘I don’t want to see him. Siblings wanted to call the White Lady mother, though. They will probably end up calling him father.’  _ They paused before adding,  _ ‘What is he like?’ _

__ What is he like? Hornet didn’t answer this. What  _ was _ he like? Well, he was there, to say the least. Though he wasn’t  _ there _ . “He,” she started, trying to find any words with a tapping of her claw on her mask, “He is our father, yes, though I don’t have many memories of him.” He was always in his workshop or a meeting. Never did he spend time with her. 

(A soft hum, a beloved toon, morphing into the chimes of a music box, resting within the nursery. The last remnant of her father. A note beside it, though what it said she could no longer recall. All she knew was he was gone.)

The small group stopped as the White Lady turned towards Dryya. “Please, take the children to the palace gardens. Hornet, I wish to give you that gift now.” Dryya nodded, transferring Thread to her arms before leading the haunting away. Hornet glanced over at Ghost again, only to see they had disappeared. Not very surprising, though she hoped it wouldn’t scare Dryya or the White Lady. How did they walk so silently then, when only a few minutes ago the tapping of their claws were the only sound they made? 

“Hornet?” She was brought out from her thoughts, the White Lady waiting a few steps ahead, paw outsteched and waiting for her own. Hornet placed her small claws in her step-mother’s paw and the queen led her down a hallway towards her room. They passed by the nursery, where she faintly remembered Aspen humming a soothing toon. (Even fainter, she remembered her father, humming the same toon.)

She did not like how small her legs were. It was harder to keep up with her step-mother, though the Lady did make sure to slow down for her. She could not wait until her next molt, only because she’d be in her proper body again. And she would be able to wield her needle once more. She would also like that. 

They stopped in her room, untouched from the way she had left it. Her little nest was still there, with bits of silk and string hanging from the ledges. A small pile of plushies and pillows crammed into one corner of the room. The only things changed were the flowers which looked fresh from the garden, and a small blue box wrapped with a simple red bow on top, resting upon her bedside table, waiting for her. “Go on,” the Lady urged, pushing Hornet forward a bit. “The box is yours.” She jumped up onto her bed before picking up the box (curse her tiny legs), weighing it in her paw while also looking back at her step-mother. It was light, though still retained some weight. She looked away, prying the bow off gently, setting it on the table before opening it up.

Inside, nestled within red velvet, was a necklace. She sat down, gently taking the necklace from it’s resting place. She looked it over. A pale white chain that looked almost like silk caught the lumafly light. A flower hung from it, made from hive amber. The White Lady sat beside Hornet, gently picking the necklace from Hornet’s paws and placing it around her neck. Hornet held the flower charm in her paw, looking it over. “Do you like it? The flower, a cactus flower, is there so you will always know that your mothers love you.” She cupped Hornet’s face in her paw, looking into Hornet’s eyes, searching. “Herrah, Vespa, and I thought we should make a gift for you altogether. A gift from three kingdoms for a princess of three mothers.” She set her paw in her lap. “You do not have to wear it unless you want,” she said, gazing at the bouquet of colorful flowers. Then, she got up.

Hornet got up too, keeping the necklace on. Her claws tapped on the soft carpet underneath. She… she didn’t remember this. She would have liked to remember this. The flower rested beside her heart, she could feel the warmth from the hive amber. Vespa… She must be so worried about Hornet. She should visit her as soon as she could. Hadn’t she… hadn’t she died? Hornet felt tears well in her eyes and she pressed a palm to them. No, she would not cry. Not when Vespa wasn’t dead. Not when Mother wasn’t dreaming. Not when Hollow wasn’t sealed away, thought to be unfeeling when she knew they weren’t. None of this was real yet. All just a memory from a time that would not happen. Is this how her father felt, gazing at different timelines? 

She felt warm paws scoop her up and Aspen smothered her in her hug. “Oh Hornet! You don’t need to hide your tears!” She said warmly. Hornet didn’t fight against her, resting her head against her chest. She could hear her step-mother’s heart beat, a soothing tempo. She had laid beside Herrah when she dreamt, laying her head on her chest, pretending that, just for a moment, her mother would awake and Hallownest hadn’t fallen. She couldn’t stop the tears. 

\--*--

The Pale King looked over the word. Hollow. Their name was Hollow. Are you sure, he wanted to ask. Such a name, Hollow. A mockery, an insult. (How much had he hurt his child? For them to wish to be called Hollow?) But if his child wished to be called Hollow, for whatever reason, he would call them Hollow. And if, later, they decided to change their name, then he would call them whatever they wanted to be called. He placed a paw on the vessel, on Hollow’s, shoulder. He couldn’t find any words, swallowing uselessly. Hollow patted his paw, looking up at him.

“You are very sweet,” he managed to mumbled, before straightening up and bringing his paw to his side. The lower arms disappeared into his robes, the upper held folded behind his back. A change of subject, perhaps? “Speaking of sweet, I do believe it is time I introduce you to something called caramel. Come along then, Hollow,” he announced with a mischievous grin. The name felt weird on his tongue. But a good kind of weird, though the tint of irony was still there, leeching into it. He pressed open the door, waiting for the little tip taps to exit the room. 

He smiled at his child, feeling warmth in his chest. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard to break their conditioning. He wouldn’t let anyone command them anymore. He’d need to have a meeting with the Dreamers. He’d need to find some other way to end the Infection. More time would have to be spent observing the timelines. Hopefully his foresight wasn’t waning. If it was...

Hollow started walking away, and he followed, thankful for something else to think about. “Do you know the way to the kitchen?” He asked and they nodded. “Are you sure? I am not asking about the servant’s kitchen.” The vessel paused, then shook their head no. “That is alright. The personal kitchen is where we keep the snacks,” he said cheekily. Hollow perked up. Ah, so the concept of snacks hadn’t been lost on them. He should limit how much Hollow had, less his Root be angry with him. But for a first time, Hollow could have a fair amount. (He was sure his definition of fair and his Root’s definition of fair were very different.)

He didn’t know why, but he snuck around the hallways. He had no reason to. But it was fun. Taking the less travelled ones, leaning out from the corners to see if any retainers were nearby before darting out, Hollow following quickly behind. They made it a game. Who could dash across hallway gaps the fastest. He let Hollow win.

They reached the personal kitchen, Hollow’s paw in his. It was much smaller than the servant’s. It hadn’t seen much use in the cooking department, used more for storage of their snacks. And by theirs, he meant most of the snacks were his. Root did not eat many snacks. In fact, she did not eat very often at all, getting the nutrients she needed (which wasn’t a lot as a Higher Being) from her root system. And that just meant he could have more sweets. 

The only downside of this kitchen was the height. He had to use his wings to reach into some of the cupboards or shelves. Like right now, hovering beside one cupboard, trying to reach a bag of honey drops or caramel. Whichever one he grabbed first. Hollow watched him, then looked for a way to try and help. He had seriously been neglecting his snack stock, he realized. It should not be  _ this _ hard to reach them. He huffed, claw finally snagging on a bag. “Ah-ha!” He laughed triumphantly, dragging the bag towards himself. 

Caramel. Good. He wanted that. He landed again, holding the bag high before taking a piece out and handing it to Hollow. “Take off the wrap-- oh.”

Hollow had already eaten the candy, wrapper and all. He sighed, taking another piece out, unwrappng it, and eating it. The sweetness was nice on his tongue. Hollow open and closed their hands, wanting more. He obliged, unwrapping it  _ before  _ giving it to the child. “Don’t eat wrappers. They don’t taste good,” he scolded. Hollow’s face didn’t express emotion, but he could tell they were smug about it, turning away from him and holding their paws by their face. “You’ll need to learn sign language. Not to mention the handwriting we need to work on. How many words do you know?” He started thinking aloud. 

At the next, and last, Dreamer Meeting, he could ask Monomon if she’d help teach the vessel, or if one of her assistants could. Quirrel came to mind first. He’d make a great tutor. (The fact Monomon had adopted him and trusted him with her life definitely didn’t influence  _ that  _ decision.) Herrah should be told as soon as possible. She’d probably want full custody of Hornet, however. If that’s what she wanted. Lurien would want an explanation. He’d agree to ending the plan, but he’d still want it. And he’d want some other way to help. 

... 

LURIEN WAS STILL WAITING FOR HIM!

His wings flared and Hollow looked up. The King shoved the bag of sweets onto a countertop before rushing out the room. Hollow chased after, trilling. He stopped, looking back at the child. They… they had made a noise. Could they speak if given enough practice? Something told him that no, the vessel would never be able to speak. “I have to speak with Lurien, Hollow.” He knelt down. Could he take Hollow with him? He didn’t exactly want the child to leave his side. Maybe Hollow should continue to act pure while he figureed out how to break the news? No, terrible idea. Don’t force them anymore. “You can come with, if you want.”

They nodded. He held their paw as they walked towards the meeting room together. Aspen deserved to know before anyone else. Before the Dreamers, even. After this meeting, he’d go straight to her (or wait if she hadn’t returned yet), and tell her. Hopefully it wouldn’t hurt her. And if it did, hopefully it wouldn’t hurt too much. (He tried not to look at his Root leaving. He couldn’t look at that, not when Hallownest needed him. He had to stay strong, stay focused.)

(But perhaps now he can look?)

\--

The Pale King walked slightly in the front, though he never once let go of Hollow’s paw. He couldn’t care less about the image he was supposed to maintain. Right now, Hollow needed all the reassurance they could get about being alive and feeling. They needed to know that their wants and desires were appreciated and considered. He stopped and looked down at the child.

Their cloak was stained with Void and had some tears. The tears weren’t a big deal by themself, though getting that Void out of the clothes would be extremely hard. They looked up at him, waiting. He smiled at them.

He continued down the hallway, one paw behind his back and the other delicately cradling Hollow’s. And if anyone disagreed, well, he was the king. He should tell Xero to stop panicking, he noted. First, whatever Lurien had to say. Then tell his Root. Then he could tell Xero to stop worrying. Then a meeting with the Dreamers. Then…

Then another vessel walked into view.

He stopped in his tracks. Faded blue cloak, curving horns not too different from Hollow’s. They had gotten a hold of a shellwood nail. Where did they get that? Where did they come from? There were other living vessels? (Was this the only one? The only other survivor of a hundred?)   
He blinks.

There is something behind the vessel. A cloud of Void. White eyes. Eight of them. No, not behind...

He blinks again.

The vessel was a vessel. Undamaged, uninjuried. They looked curiously at him. He followed their eyes. No, not him.  _ Hollow _ . They were looking at Hollow. He looked up at them again. They looked at him. He took a step forward, letting go of Hollow’s paw for a moment. And then they ran. Their cloak propelled them forward, gone in an instant, like a ghost. Not a sound made. He made a gasping noise, like he had just been impaled.

Had he seen a ghost? No, that had to be another vessel. But the chances… another vessel shouldn’t have survived. They shouldn’t have been able to escape. And yet…

He’d have to apologize to Lurien at the next Dreamer Meeting. Telling his Root, telling Aspen, was more important. She had to know, she deserved it. “Hollow, change of plans. We’re going to see your mother today instead.” He stopped a retainer and asked them if she had returned. She had, with Hornet, and was currently in the palace gardens. He noticed how they shifted under his gaze. He didn’t have time to dweal, picking up Hollow and racing towards the gardens. The arms on one side of his body held the vessel close as he ran. The trip was short, as the meeting room was close to the gardens. Oh, he had forgotten to tell the retainer to dismiss Lurien. Shoot.

He set Hollow down before opening the intricately carved doors. His Root looked up from a conversation with Dryya. But he wasn’t focused on the way they leaned in together. He focused on Hornet and the little vessel chasing her, brandishing a shellwood nail. She deflected with her own shellwood needle.

There were six vessels here, including the one he had seen earlier. Six. And Hollow made seven. Seven surviving vessels. Aspen had gotten up, walking over to his side. He leaned into her embrace, her holding one arm on his back, the other’s paw on his cheek. “My Wyrm, there is something I have to say,” she started. 

“Seven vessels,” he mumbled.

“Yes, seven vessels.”

“Seven.”

“I wish to keep them,” she whispered. He looked up into her eyes, shining bright. They were pleading. Pleading with him. Let her keep them. Let her raise them. Let her have the children she so desperately wanted. “They already have names. We have to keep them. We have to.” 

He placed his hand over her’s. “Of-- Of course!” he stuttered. “Of course.” He watched as one of the vessels approached Hollow. Small, four horns, tripping over their own cloak. “And what happens to be their names?” His Root looked at him, before pointing to each vessel, giving a name. He looked at them silently before he said, “Aspen, something has come up. I can’t go through with the Hollow Knight Plan.”

“And why is that?” She asked, though her tone implied she already knew.

“Because…” How blind. “Because Hollow  _ isn’t _ hollow. They… they named themself. I--” Seven. Vessels. He kept turning the number over and over. He was lucky to get one. Now seven? (Did only a hundred die, or were there more? Was his calculations off due to the unknown of the Abyss? No, it could only be a hundred lost, maximum. The Abyss couldn’t influence that.)

“You should rest, my Wyrm,” Aspen suggested, shifting around him so she sat cross-legged, giving him a place to rest. “You’ve spent so long in that workshop of your’s.”

“I can not rest now. Not when I still need to arrange another Dreamer Meeting. Not when we have six other vessels to take care of.”

“That is  _ exactly _ why you need to rest, Ivory,” she pointed out. “I can arrange the meeting myself. I can get Dryya, and Xero, and Ogrim to watch the vessels while you rest. You can not take care of them, or Hallownest, if you are using up your last leaf.”

He sighed, allowing her to place him in her lap. There was no point in arguing. She was right. While Higher Beings did not necessarily  _ need  _ sleep, it was never detrimental to engage in it. He’d even say it was beneficial. 

Some of the other vessels decided his Root had a good idea and nestled around them. A few others continued to run around and play-fight. Hornet kept up with them surprisingly well, dodging or parrying different attacks. Vespa was a good teacher. 

Aspen’s chest buzzed as she began to hum a tune. He closed his eyes, humming in harmony. He should make that into a music box. Preserve the tune for the children to hear whenever they needed it. The noises of the children and the buzz of the humming faded away, replaced by calming darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is perfectly fine! Nothing at all will go wrong! Nope! It's all good here folks


	10. Chapter 10 A: Ivory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivory awakes alone in his bed, but something isn't right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on! Before you read any further, I have to tell you something first! This and Chapter 10 B are connected. The first half of both chapters are the same, just from a different perspective, however, the second half is different (the second half begins after the ...) So if you read this all the way through and then reed 10-B, know you could skip the first half. I encourage you to read both all the way through, but it's up to you :)
> 
> Either way, enjoy!

He woke alone in his room. 

He could tell his Root was not here. Her dull warmth was not felt. He laid in the bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, paws folded across his chest. He couldn’t expect to wake beside her every day. She might be taking care of her garden. Or Hollow. Or the new vessels. Or maybe she was arranging a meeting?

He shifted, turning on his side. He should get up. He’s slept long enough, he reasoned. With a groan, he left the comfort of the blankets. His claws tapped on cold tile. He shivered.

Shrugging on his robes, his claws hovered over his kingsoul half for a moment, before he turned to leave the room. The hallways around his room were silent, not as well lit as the others. He paused to look at whatever flowers were up now. The pale, fragile flowers Ze’Mer had brought with her. An odd choice, but he would not question his Root’s judgement.

He tapped down the hallway, approaching one of the more well-travelled ones. He heard no bustling. He looked around. No servants were going to and fro. Even if it was late at night, there would be at least one here or there. He frowned. He should check on his Root, or Hornet, or Hollow. He decided on Hollow, first, since they were the closest. Their room wasn’t too far from his, after all.

He approached the closed door and stopped. The pale flowers were growing up it, creating a barrier, a wall, between him and his child. He brushed along the petal, flower retracting from him. “Hollow?” He called out. No response. He summoned a nail and slashed at the vines. They gave way underneath the blade, but more quickly replaced them. He slashed again and again, only making the wall thicker. His heart sped up. “Hollow? Hollow are you in there?” His child may not have voice, but they could have made some noise to tell him they were there. 

His eyes followed the vines, leading down the hallway towards Hornet’s room, past that even. He followed. The vines overtaking the palace, layering everything in green, dotted only by pale white. Then, the vines were dotted with butterfly shaped blue. The pale flowers gave way to lifeblood vines. He looked for anyone else, and yet there was no one. Not a servant, not a kingsmould, not even the stray wingmould. Nothing. He stopped in the hallway. Something wasn’t right. Something was very wrong.

He stopped following the pale and blue flowers, turning around only to be met with a wall of lifeblood vines. He turned again. The hallway had changed. No longer did it lead to Hornet’s room, but to his workshop. 

This was a dream. This was a dream and he was in control. There was no way this was real. 

He thought hard about where he wanted the hallway to lead. His throne room. The hallway didn’t change but he walked down it anyway, past his workshop. He felt cold radiate from it, reaching with frozen claws. The hallway continued on. The pale flowers control started to fade, their vines retracting from wherever the hallway led. 

It opened up to his throne room, cast in shadows, the only thing with any light was his throne itself and a few blue butterfly shaped flowers that lined the wall. The kingsmoulds that were here lay on the ground, Void gone, nothing but a hollow shell. He stepped over them, towards his throne. The pale flowers tried to grow in this room, but their vines were black and shriveled. Lifeblood vines curled around his throne. His paw reached out, claws brushing against his throne.

He stepped back, a gasp, as the throne was devoured by darkness. The darkness reached towards any light, snuffing out flower after flower. He turned tail and fled. The hallway stretched, longer and longer, as the Void closed in. He could hear a faint tune. He leapt…

And crossed the threshold, landing in the nursery. The darkness faltered and faded. He hauled himself up, looking around the room. He was alone even here, but music accompanied him. Slow and melodic, a lullaby without words. He approached the bassinet, stopping as two cloudy figures formed. Aspen, his Root, and Hollow, his child. She held them close, humming a tune, before laying them to bed. 

He reached out towards her, but his claws went through the misty figure. She gasped, looking up at something behind him, eyes wide. Her figure vanished. 

He turned to see what frightened her. There was nothing. No, he could hear something. The tune, the little music box, turned into something else. Speeding up and distorting. He looked back at his child, but the child was gone as well. He looked again, hearing  _ something  _ dragging itself towards him. He summoned a nail. The darkness returned, stretching into the room, reaching towards him but never getting close. Four arms extended from the darkness, eight white eyes glared out. The creature growled. A fierce wind wipped through the room. It clawed at his robes. This was no creature, he realized, as it stepped towards him on digitigrade legs ending in sharp claws. It took up so much space, and yet it was so hard to see, shrouded by the shadows. 

“The Lord of Shades.”

It roared, layered and echoed. Harsh and loud yet eerily silent all at the same time. Muffled, static. It charged him, then, swiping at him. He dashed backwards, using his summoned nail as a shield. He created a ring of nails around himself before sending them flying. The beast dashed through them before it reared back. He thrust his nail forward, glancing its side. It bellowed and he dashed past it, rushing away from the small nursery. He could hear it chasing him. The shadows lengthened, trying to snag him. 

But he was quick, and this was his dream.

He slid, then propelled himself around a corner. The Lord of Shades screamed something, but the words were lost in its many voices. He cast a glance back. The White Palace was falling apart. Falling apart beneath his claws, even. He couldn’t stop, he had to keep running, but a wall came into existence and created a barrier. He turned, summoning more nails until they surrounded him. Each held their own small light. To a mortal bug, the light would burn. But to a being of shadows.

The Lord of Shades watched him, before it held out a paw, forging a twisted copy of a pure nail. It held the nail within it’s upper paw. Then it charged him. A few of his own nails were launched towards the shadowed beast, but it only dashed through them. He flung out his paws, grabbing four of them, while more flew. The Lord of Shades parried them, swatting them away and back towards the Pale King with practiced ease. 

The creature continued it’s onslaught. The King continued to defend. Four nails clashing against the Lord of Shade’s one. The beast jumped, bringing down its blade. The King blocked with two of his nails before he struck at the beast’s chest with the other two. It screamed and stumbled backwards, clutching at its chest. He was taken aback a bit. He had expected the beast to use claws or spells. But a nail? And to move so fluidly. But it also didn’t. It seemed to get caught up on its own lower arms. 

The beast took advantage of his contemplation, dashing forward and slashing at him. He narrowly avoided the slash, leaping into the air. The beast shrieked, a cloud of darkness rushing upwards, searing into his shell. He screamed as he crumbled to the ground. The floor was fading fast now, replaced by darkness. The Lord of Shades stabbed its nail into his back as he tried to crawl away. He bit back a scream, hemolymph dribbling down from the corner of his mouth. The floor shattered, and he cried out as he crashed onto the bodies below.

His chest and back flared with pain as he wheezed and struggled up. His nails slid away from him, vanishing. A thump behind him. He looked back. The Lord of Shades was advancing on him. He fired five soul daggers before trying to get up, claws slipping on the skulls of his children. He fell again, little horns digging into his body, tearing at his robes.

The Lord of Shades towered over him, no longer so small. All he could see were it’s eyes, burning white pools imbedded in darkness. He struggled to breath. It was so cold, frosting over his lungs. So many horns of so many lost children bit into him. How many were there? A hundred? Two hundred? One thousand? It could only be one hundred, maximum, but the pile he awaited his death on spoke otherwise. 

A low growl from the beast in front of him. “Please,” he breathed. Begged, even. “Before I am to die, tell me, how many of my children have passed?” The beast paused, staring at him, before the growl intensified. “Let me know,” he begged, “How many I condemned! How much blood is on my paws!” 

The Lord of Shades stopped, then backed off, the shadows of the abyss wrapping around its form. It looked away from him, to the shells, to the unending sea of crushed and fragmented and left-to-rot skulls. This was far more than a hundred. He didn’t want to know the answer. He had to know the answer. He picked up the skull closest to him, one of they’re horns snapped off, cracks spiderwebbing around the face. All that was left of his children. A sea of bones. 

**“A million,”** came the voice of the Lord of Shades. Comprised of a million stolen voices from a million stolen lives. Echoing and whispering in a chorus of the deceased. He choked. A horrible coughing sound came from his throat as the skull fell from his grasp, rejoining the sea of children lost. He held his head in his paws, body shivering, but not from the cold. 

It was impossible. He had double, nay, triple checked the calculations. Monomon herself went over them. Her best archivist went over them. One hundred lost lives  _ maximum _ . And yet, he didn’t understand the Void. He’d never understand it. And that one incomprehensible variable spelt the end to not a hundred, not a thousand, but a million lives. He could only hope most died within the egg and never hatched. At least then they wouldn’t feel any pain. His claws bit into his chitin. He didn’t care, even as his hemolymph ran into his eyes. If he had known it would be a million, would he have still down this? He didn’t dare ask himself that question.

Were these lost children now part of the Voidsea? Part of the Lord of Shades itself? Did they even linger? His sobbing continued, even as he felt something approach him from behind. The chill swept over him. He didn’t care. His hands fell from his face as he looked up at the Lord of Shades, smaller again, twisted around him, judging him. He reached forward. Was this the combination of his children? Was this their want for revenge? Their want to be heard? The Lord of Shades moved away from his grasp. He wanted to say something, anything, but his voice was frozen over, lost. All he could do was look upon it, guilt shining in his eyes. 

(The vessel from before, the ghost, crossed over his mind. He’d seen them before the hallway. Sitting atop his throne, then, with a single swipe filled with the rage of a thousand suns, cast down to the floor. They stood over him in triumph, dropping the nail and themself to the floor.)

The darkness started to curl around him, restraining him. He blinked away tears. The glow of its eyes intensified as it moved closer to him. He could move one paw. Only one arm could be freed. He reached up again. Perhaps fighting was not an answer. He should say something. He wanted to say something. But what would you say to the Lord of Shades? God of Gods? The Lord of Shades moved its head towards him hesitantly. 

But before he could touch the beast, red flames sprung up. He jerked his hand back. The Lord of Shades jerked its head around, eyes wide. A pillar of flame erupted between the Pale King and the Lord of Shades. From that pillar, a wall formed, small and circular, enclosing around the King. He looked around wildly, trying to find the source, before looking back at the Lord of Shades. He caught it’s eye before he saw a spike impale it on its chest, shrieking  _ something _ . 

The flames consumed him.

...

He gasped and hacked up phlegm. He wheezed, gulping lungfuls of air greedily. He pushed himself up, lower arms holding his body while upper held his neck. His wheezing slowed until it was deep breaths with only a bit of shaking. He could still feel the sting of the flames on him. Or was that the sting of the Void? The image of the Lord of Shades being impaled played over and over in his head. It… it tried to say something. He didn’t catch the words. Or maybe he didn’t want to remember them.

A puff of red smoke caused him to cough once again. He glared up at the source, the king of nightmares himself. “Grimm,” the King hissed, mandibles clicking. His tail lashed, curling and uncurling as the moth god looked down at him with a smug smile. 

“Ivory,” he responded cheekily. He offered a hand to the King, but said King disregarded it, standing up by himself. He gritted his teeth, back and chest flaring in pain. He placed a paw to his chest, trying to find the hole and heal it. But there was no hole. In fact, there was no hemolymph. “You’re welcome, Pale Wyrm,” the moth added. 

He scoffed, dropping his paw and turning away. He stood within a circus tent, at the very center. He looked down the long walkway, to the tent flaps. There was something beyond them. Odd. “I know what you’re thinking, Wyrm. No one summoned me.” Grimm was in front of him with more red smoke. “And you are not leaving just yet.”

“Then why, pray tell, are you within my dreams?”

Grimm smiled again, snapping his fingers. A bit of flame burned at the tip. He held it between the two gods. “Can’t I visit my dear sister? You know, you are lucky I was visiting her. If I wasn’t, you’d be dead.” He smothered the flame by making a fist. The King didn’t even flinch. Grimm sighed, disappearing and then reappearing behind him. The King turned to look the moth in the eye.

There was a grimmkin holding a platter with wine of all things. Grimm picked a glass up, taking a sip. He eyed the King. The King eyed him, even as the grimmkin offered the other glass to him. “What are you planning?”

“Me? Planning something? No, Pale Wyrm. I am not planning anything. Like I said, I am here to visit my sister. Well, that and help a tribe of moths return home--”

“Moths?” The King prodded, holding up a paw. “What do you mean ‘help a tribe of moths return home?’” Moths? From beyond Hallownest? Did they follow the Radiance? If they returned, would her wrath weaken? 

Grimm smiled from behind the glass. Despite how much he had drunk, the liquid had not gone down. “Yes, moths, from beyond Hallownest. Been wandering for many years.” Both watched each other carefully. “Sunseeker has asked to speak with you. I wouldn’t deny her, if I were you. Her temper could rival that of my sister’s.”

The King looked away. Moths. Alive. Who worshipped the Radiance. Who seemed to hate him. That… that was a good thing. His wings fluttered. But why return home now? Did they hear their god’s call? Why hadn’t he seen this in any timeline? Grimm walked up behind him, handing him a glass of wine. This time he did accept, but did not drink from it. Before him, the scenery changed, to that of Dirtmouth. Circus tents were pitched, and the growing town’s residents stood at the edge, looking at the troupe members. And the moths.

There were many moths, he saw. They stayed close to the tents, but some wandered closer to Dirtmouth. How many were there? “I don’t… Why are they here?”

Grimm hummed, pointing to a brightly colored moth. Her wings were bright yellow, with red eyes on them. Her ruff was cream. She wore an elegant looking headpiece that covered her face. “That is Sunseeker. Like I said, she is the leader.” Currently, she seemed to be speaking with one of the troupe members. “Why they are here is best answered by her.” The scene dissipated, the red walls of the Nightmare Realm coming back into existence. The Pale King looked at the Nightmare King. “So, Ivory, when are you free for a chat?” He said it so casually.

“First of all, Nightmare King, you do not get to call me Ivory.  _ No one  _ does. Asides from my dear Root. Second of all, I have several important things to attend to.”  _ Though this is very important too. Perhaps the Dreamer Meeting will have to wait _ .

“Hmm. Well,  _ I  _ could always come to the palace. I could bring Sunseeker and The Pathfinder as well,” he suggested. “Since you seem oh so busy, King Ivory.”

He frowned. Root and dirt he was glad he didn’t have to talk to Grimm up until this point. “You can bring the two along. However, as soon as that meeting is over, I expect you to leave the palace.”

Grimm smiled wickedly. “If that is what the host wishes, then sure. But then you wouldn’t be a very good host, now would you?” He supposed having the Nightmare King in his palace where he could keep an eye on him was a good idea. Especially if he hadn’t seen this in any timeline. (He also hadn’t seen the Lord of Shades. What else was he missing?) 

“... very well. You may stay in the palace. The moths, however, may be better off at the Crown of Hallownest, if they wish to live there. When would you like to have this meeting?”

“Ah, to be a court jester. A role new to me, but I am sure I’ll perform just fine. As for the meeting, whenever you like, though sooner is better. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

Tomorrow? He rather have one day off. One day he could spend with his newly found children. But helping these moths settle in Hallownest was important too. He weighed his options. The meeting could always occur later in the day. He could speak well into the night if need be. He did not know when the Dreamer Meeting would be, but he hoped soon. “Tomorrow afternoon. I would like to spend some time with my children.”

Grimm stiffened beside him. “Children?” He heard the moth whisper. He cleared his throat, saying, “I must have misheard you, King Ivory. You didn’t happen to say children? As in you have multiple kids.”

The Pale King smiled and nodded. “Yes, children,” he hummed. “I have eight. Seven vessels and one spiderling. Six of which we’ve only gotten today.” His chest swelled at the thought. Eight children. It felt nice to say aloud. 

“You have  _ eight _ ?! And seven of them are vessels? Wait, what are their names?” 

The Pale King thought about each vessel for a moment. “They named themself. Or were given a name before I or my Root could.” He listed off the names, careful to not mention Hollow. He would save them for last. 

“That’s only six names. What about the seventh?” Grimm asked.

The Pale King smiled. “Ah, the last one. They named themself Hollow, and they were my Pure Vessel. Now, they are my child.” It felt so good to say. Why had he spent so long in ignorance? 

“You… have children. I-- Well, congratulations, I suppose.” Grimm then tilted his head upwards and frowned. “You should awake soon. We shall be seeing each other tomorrow. I would like some spiced tea.” With a bow, Grimm disappeared, as did the Nightmare Realm.

\--

The Pale King woke to the eyes of his Root. “Good morning my Wyrm,” she spoke. She leaned up in bed, smiling sweetly. Between them, nuzzled up, was Hollow. The King smiled, looking at his child. 

He reached for Hollow, who woke with a start. They looked at him as he dragged them into a hug. 

“Well, good morning to you two. How does a day together sound?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Grimm makes his appearance! Took long enough--


	11. Chapter 10 B: Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost finds themself wandering the White Palace again, but no one is there. No one except the delicate flowers and lifeblood vines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on! Before you read any further, I have to tell you something first! This and Chapter 10 A are connected (which you probably already know--). The first half of both chapters are the same, just from a different perspective, however, the second half is different (the second half begins after the ...) So if you read this all the way through and then read 10-A, know you could skip the first half. I encourage you to read both all the way through, but it's up to you :)
> 
> Either way, enjoy! Oh, and sorry for the repeat note, it's just incase you decide to skip Ivory's or whatever.

Ghost was in the White Palace again.

It was devoid of any life. No servants, no kingsmoulds or wingmoulds. There wasn’t a buzzsaw or spear in sight, either, which was a plus. The only sign of any life were the fragile flowers Ze’Mer had given them so long ago. They grew within the flower holders, vines connecting each pot together. The vines also grew along the walls, the identical white walls painted with green stripes zig zagging across them. 

A delicate flower grew close to the floor. Close enough for Ghost to pluck it from the nest of greenery. They held it close to their chest, cloak a shield. They heard a cooing noise. Looking up, they saw the swish of a cloak. They stared for only a moment before following, peering around the corner, but no one was there. The vines, however, seemed to travel in this direction, growing thicker and having many, many more grow. The hallway was closer to green colored than white by all the vines. The archway at the end opened up to darkness. 

They shook their head and turned away. A wall. The only way was forward. They looked back again. The hallway was shorter now. They took a hesitant step. Then another. And another. Until they were padding down the hallway and past the shaded archway. 

As soon as they passed, the vines curled up, closing off the exit. They turned, looking at the newly formed barrier of green. A few flowers bloomed. They tried to pry the vines away, tugging and pulling, but to no avail. They lost their grip, landing on their bottom, growling. They stood, tapping their mask, eyes following the vines once again. They spiderwebbed across the hallway, going into different directions and paths. And at the end of this intersection was...

Hollow.

They took a few steps then started running. Hollow stood at the edge of the intersection, waiting. Ghost didn’t watch where they ran, paws getting tangled up in deep blue lifeblood vines. They fell, trying to shield the delicate flower. But they failed, and the petals fell into dust around their body. No, it wasn’t falling into dust. Drops of Void were staining the petals. They dropped the flower, looking up. Hollow still stood, and then, they turned away, sauntering down the hallway.

They tried to follow their twin, but the vines held strong, hold growing tighter. Ghost chirped, trying to get their attention. But they didn’t stop. Ghost tried to fight the vines, pulling at them again. Their tearing increased in speed. Let them go, please, let them go.

The barrier vines started to wilt, going from vibrant green to rotting brown. The blue vines around their ankle started to retreat, heading for the rotting vines. Ghost watched as the vines fell, giving way to the Void itself, shadows reaching, beckoning for them to return. They stumbled up, chasing after Hollow. Following the few vibrant vines that remained, the ones not rotting or choked by lifeblood. The hallway stretched onward. The Void closed in. The shadows lengthened until they tried to capture Ghost. 

No, they would not be captured! They had to reach Hollow! They had to reach their twin! 

They kept running, refusing to be separate. Hollow was always a few steps ahead, always too far for Ghost to reach them. They turned a corner and vanished. Ghost stopped, looking for them in the wide open ballroom. But Hollow was nowhere to be found. Instead, all there was was a pillar coated in the vines, lifeblood flowers blooming all over it. Vines grow along the floor as well, with their own flowers blooming. Ghost stepped into the room, the shadows refusing to enter. 

They carefully walked around the flowers before approaching the pillar. They looked it up and down. There was a part in the vines, glass. Inside was Hollow, staring back at Ghost. They extended their paw, tapping a claw on the glass. 

It shattered.

From it, Void tendrils wrapped around them, dragging them closer.

They fought in vain, tugging away. More wrapped around them. They looked back at the archway, blue vines forming a wall, holding off the shadows. But these flowers, the ones next to them, offered no protection. The petals fluttered like wings as the Void spilled out, overtaking more and more of the room. They whimpered as it surrounded them, falling to their knees and holding their head. 

The Void swirled around them. The Void inside them swirled. Everything swirled and nothing made sense. And it  _ hurt _ . Void pressed against their shell, trying to escape. They were dying, they weren’t dying. This body was dying and they were the shade. They curled around themself. Make it stop, please! They whined as their mask cracked, clattering to the floor before being devoured by the Void. Their body bent at unnatural angles until it wasn’t  _ their body _ . Too many arms, too many eyes. Please, this isn’t them. 

They tried to escape the darkness but it only followed them, clinging to them like silk on prey. And it was cold. So cold. They stumbled, trying to free themself of the black silk, but they couldn’t. Their legs were too long, bending in ways they shouldn’t. The silk held onto them, wrapping around their legs, their claws, their newly acquired tail. The Void spilled in through the archway, piercing through the lifeblood vines, until the entire room was shrouded in shadows. Shadows that wrapped around them, only making the cocoon thicker. They fell to their knees again, holding either their head or hugging themself. 

Then, a tune. One they knew. Slow and calming. A sound they had only heard once. A sound that made them want to stay. A sound never meant for them, but played all the same. In a nursery never meant for them, but appeared nonetheless. They stood, following the sound. The soft melodic tune soothed the Void. They had heard Aspen hum the tune before they slept. Slept?

This was a dream. 

This was  _ their  _ dream.

It wasn’t real.

They stopped, looking down at themself. Four vantablack paws were held up. The black silk eased into a dark cloud of mist, hovering around them before forming a cloak of shadows. Could they go back to how they were before? Be the Little Ghost haunting the forgotten bones of Hallownest? Sharing stolen moments with the few friends left? Could they have their shell? Hide away what was them in the face of  _ them _ ? (Something told them no. They had chosen this path. The consequences were theirs.) 

The tune was closer now. They continued on, vibrant vines of delicate flowers lining the hallway. The petals shined out against the dark. The tune started to change into the familiar distorted and sped up song. They approached the doorway, eyes shining. Inside stood the Pale King, wielding a nail. He faltered as he saw them stepping towards him. They growled at him. Why was  _ he  _ in  _ their  _ dream? 

“The Lord of Shades,” he gasped. They recoiled. No, they were Ghost. This body wasn’t theirs, but they were still Ghost (right?) No, they were Ghost, this was their dream, and he shouldn’t be here.  _ Why  _ was he here? Their Void rolled and they roared. It was layered with thousands of voices, whispering and screaming and crying. They dashed towards the Pale King, swiping madly with serrated claws. Shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here! Get out of their dream! Get out of their head!

He dashed backwards. They swiped again, sending clawed strike after clawed strike. The Pale King deflected some, crashing his wrists into their own. But they didn’t care. They hissed, swiping with their upper arm before trying to kick him. He summoned a ring of nails around himself, each circling slowly before he extended his arms, the nails flying. They dashed between them as the nails went through a body that didn’t exist for only that second. The King took a step back, tripping on his robes and they reared back, drawing in as much strength as they could. Except the King took the opening, his nail grazing their side as they abandoned their own strike. They roared again as he maneuvered around them, dropping the nail.

He bolted, fleeing down the hallways, darkness retracting from his light before following again. They gave chase, the King disappearing around a corner. They skidded across the tiles, claws digging into it. The braced themself on the wall, using it to propel themselves forward. The shadows seemed to aid them in their chase, but the King was still far ahead. He would not escape! 

They howled, screaming into the hallway. Void came together at the far end of the hallway, creating a barrier which was painted white. The king stopped, placing his paws on it before turning around, facing off with Ghost. More nails were summoned, surrounding him as he held up his paws. They hissed to themself. Did he think that would stop them? They had fought the Radiance and won! Despite all the walls of nails she had sent at them.

Of course, fighting with claws only was something they were not used to. Having a nail would make things easier. They flung out their paw in anger, only to have the shadows around them solidify into a pure nail. They held it up, clasped within their upper arms, looking at that Pale Deadbeat. Their claws held tighter before they charged forward, thrusting the nail towards the King. He shot out the nails that surrounded him, but all they had to do was dash between them. He grabbed the four closest nails before more flew. They parried each one, swatting them away and into the ground.

Soon, all of his nails were gone, save for the four he held. They swung at him, and he brought his nails up to deflect. They swiped again. The two combatants’ nails clashed against each other again and again, sparks of white and black falling around them in a brilliant display. They backed off, then leaped at him, bringing the blade down. He caught it in his upper nails, using the lower to stab into their chest. They stumbled back with a yelp, paw to their chest. They felt a hole where the blade had been plunged into them, and they felt it stitch itself back together. They shivered. 

The King was breathing heavily, obviously not used to having to fight like this. He was watching them, learning their moves. They dashed, swinging their nail so quickly the King had no time to process. But apparently he did anyway. Jumping and allowing his wings carrying him upward. They let out an Abyss Shriek which tore into him. He screamed as his body collided with the floor. Hemolymph and Void mixed as it ran down his body. He tried to crawl away from them. They scoffed, shoving their nail into his back, right through his wings. He made a gargling noise before the floor gave out underneath the two and they fell.

They landed atop the forgotten bodies of their siblings. They looked up to see the King once again, nails knocked away from him. He fired five soul daggers before he tried to get up. All they had to do was side step and the Void around them ate up the attack. They watched him struggle to stand, falling down the pile, little horns tearing into him, clawing at him.

The Void swirled around them and within them. Soon enough they towered over the Pale King, four arms holding them up. It would be so easy to snuff out his light, once and for all. A shame really, that travelling back in time brought him back as well. No matter, an easy fix. They growled, claws digging into the shells and rocks below. “Please,” came his oh-so-small voice. “Before I am to die, tell me, how many of my children have passed?” He wanted to know? He wanted to know only when his life was on the line. They growled again, deeper this time. “Let me know,” he begged, voice catching, “How many I condemned! How much blood is on my paws!” 

How much blood? How much blood?! They should destroy him right now! (Hollow. Twin. Would hurt them.) They wanted to scream, the claw, to fight, to show him just how much blood was on his paws. Make him pay. (Siblings chose him. Siblings want him.) Heart aching, they backed off, instead looking at the skulls littered around them. They couldn’t look at the King, but looking at the skulls dug into them as well. He moved, catching their eye. They watched him stand, picking up a skull. One of the horns snapped off. His claws brushed against it, across the cracks spiderwebbing around it, across the snapped off horn. They could see his eyes shimmer in the pale light. 

How much blood? How many lives? They  _ shouldn’t  _ know the answer, they knew, with a quivering soft breath. But they did, deep inside themself. The number whispered to them, echoed across the Abyss in a hushed whisper.  **“A million.”** A voice, given to them by the sacrifice of a million lives. They shouldn’t have a voice. They shouldn’t have gotten it by the death of a million siblings. They heard the Pale King choke. The skull fell from his paws, clattering with the sea of bones, rejoining the million lives lost. He shivered, curling around himself.

He was… crying. Their eyes widened.  _ Why  _ was he crying? His body shook with each silent sob. They could see his claws digging into his chitin, causing hemolymph to run down his face. If he had known it would have been a million lives, would he have still let his children die? Would he still cast the eggs down? They circled around him, form becoming smaller. His paws fell away only some, just enough for him to look up at them. They could see his tears running down his face, carrying his blood alongside. He reached out with what looked to be so much effort. But they moved away.

His paws fell. He looked so… so… No, stop. Don’t you  _ dare  _ start feeling sorry for him. He hurt you! He hurt your siblings! (He let siblings lay on him.) Darkness curled around the Pale King, binding him with the silk that once bound them. They moved toward him again, hissing lowly. Yet he didn’t look afraid. In fact, he reached up again. Words seemed to hover on his lips. Something he wanted to say, but couldn’t, for whatever reason.

His paw looked so inviting. Oh to be touched! But by him? Did they dare accept his touch? (Hollow loved him. Loves him still. That has to mean something, right? The way he held Hollow’s paw…) They found themself moving towards him, hesitantly, but moving nonetheless. Just one touch, for only one second. Just to see. Just to see.

Red flames sprung up around him. Both jerked back. The shadows released the Pale King as a pillar of flame became a circle of flame, cutting their father off from them. More flames, circling around them. Then spikes shooting up. They didn’t have time to dodge, couldn’t dodge. One lodged itself right in their chest.

**“Father! Help! It hurts!”** They cried, but their words were lost to the crackle of flames and the churning of the Void.

…

They woke clutching their chest, throwing aside the blankets atop them. They heaved, still feeling the spike in their chest. It burned. Their entire body burned. Rivers of lava spilling out and away from their wound. They pulled their paw away, watching Void drip onto the sheets.

Sheets? They were in a bed. Well, something like a bed. A huge nest. They sat up, grimacing at the pain. Their siblings all slept in the same nest, each in their group. They heard a surprised trill and looked to their side. Hollow. 

Hollow reached for them, then hesitated. Ghost fell into their arms, pressing their body into their twin’s. Hollow didn’t move for a second. Then they felt their twin’s paw stroke their back. They closed their eyes. Warmth around their chest, not the searing heat from their wound. They felt the wound stitch over. (Their body. Their body. Two arms, two eyes.  _ Them _ .)

They held Hollow close. The touch of their twin… it was as comforting and inviting as they remembered. They heard soft whimpers. Hollow’s claws grasped onto Ghost’s cloak. Ghost wiggled away so they could look their twin in the eye. They trilled quietly, paws on Hollow’s shoulders. Their twin shook underneath their paws. Void leaked from their eyes. 

**_“Why?”_ ** Hollow asked softly. 

**_“Why what?”_ **

**_“Why trust me? I abandoned you. I tried to kill you!”_ ** Hollow sobbed, wiping away their tears with their palm. They didn’t look at Ghost, looking at the nest floor in shame.

Ghost shook their head.  **_“You wanted to live. I wanted to live. You… you made your choice.”_ ** They let silence settle for a moment. If Ghost had made the jump, would the Pale King take them both? Would he cast one aside? If they took Hollow’s place, and Hollow theirs, would they have turned around to help?  **_“You wanted to live.”_ ** They repeated.

**_“And I left you! I left you to die!”_ **

**_“But I’m not dead. I’m here, now.”_ ** (All those skulls. They hadn’t escaped with their sibs before. They escaped alone.)

**_“I still left you,”_ ** Hollow whispered.  **_“I still left.”_ ** They rubbed their left arm. Void still trailed down their face, though it wasn’t as much as it had been.  **_“I left you despite knowing you’d die.”_ **

Ghost didn’t know what to say. What could they say? Instead, they brought Hollow back into the hug, both slowly sitting down on the soft fabric. They purred as Hollow shook.  **_“But I’m not dead,”_ ** they repeated.  **_“I lived. And our siblings live. You found one way out, we found another.”_ ** (Were their deaths prevented? Or were they still doomed? Lost… how did they die? How did they become Infected? And Mothwing. Little Mothwing in Greenpath. Those two, they could still very well die.)

Hollow didn’t respond. Ghost looked over at their siblings. Lost held Mothwing close, using their cloak as a blanket despite there being plenty of actual blankets to use. (Please don’t die.) Mimic and Thread curled around Falcer, a large blanket tucked around them. Their eyes trailed over to the table by the door. A vase of flowers stood vigil, as did a shaded lumafly lantern. 

**_“Just tell me you hate me,”_ ** Hollow requested mournfully. 

**_“No, I won’t. Because that would be a lie.”_ ** Hollow finally looked Ghost in the eye again. Frustration and betrayal at being left behind? Yes. Hatred? Hollow was their twin. Twin’s always had each other’s back. They would have to remind them that.  **_“Hollow, you are my twin. I am your twin. We always have each other.”_ ** _ Why did you think I did what I did?  _ They wanted to add. They could have fought Hollow in the Black Egg. Could have fought the Radiance there. But instead they performed the grueling task of ascending through the pantheons.  **_“Even now. Especially now. No one has to be hollow. No one has to be pure. We just have to be.”_ **

**_“I abandoned you, and then, after five hundred years, I fought you. I didn’t do anything else.”_ **

**_“It was the Pantheon of Hallownest. You’re supposed to fight,”_ ** they said lightly.

**_“No, not there.”_ ** Hollow didn’t add where, but the two knew. The Temple. They shifted in Ghost’s grasp. They let their twin go, looking over their sleeping siblings. They wondered, for a moment, if the Radiance (Aine? They still weren’t sure what to call her) was speaking with any of them. Would she try to infect them? Had she even been trying to infect Ghost?

**_“Why did you run?”_ ** Hollow asked, switching the subject.  **_“From Father. Why did you run?”_ **

Oh. They looked down, picking up a corner of a blanket and messing with it. Twisting and twirling it within their (non-serrated) claws. Why did they run? Because it was the Pale King. The Pale King, alive and moving towards them.  **_“I didn’t expect to see him.”_ **

(Their Void bubbled up, crashing against their shell. They could feel the air around them drop several degrees. The Void pushed, straining their shell. It would be so easy, so very easy, to just take him out then and there. Their claws lengthened, growing into deadly serrated points. They had to run. If they didn’t… They turned tail, running. Where, they didn’t know. Somewhere no one would find them.)

**_“You won’t run away from him again?”_ ** Hollow clarified.

**_“I won’t,”_ ** Ghost promised. No running away. Unless they had too. And not too far. Unless they had too. 

The two went back to watching over their sleeping siblings.  **_“I’ve missed you,”_ ** Ghost murmured, leaning against their twin. They let their emotions spill onto Hollow. Hollow responded by letting warmth curl around Ghost. Voidsea, they had missed this. The two curled up together, playing whatever game they could think of. And then that pale light. The pale light that beckoned each and every one of them. The pale light that seemed to trance their twin. So many siblings. So many who fell. Who never made it to the top. 

He picked up their sibling’s skull. He cried for them. For the millions lost. He had reached for them, not once or twice. He had reached for them, even as they had tried to kill him. He… he accepted their siblings. That was something. That had to be something. 

Hollow cooed, standing.  **_“Let’s go see Mother and Father.”_ ** They held out a paw for Ghost, but they didn’t take it.  **_“Ghost?”_ **

**_“I-I can’t. Please.”_ **

Hollow looked at them warmly, hugging them.  **_“I can stay if you--”_ **

**_“No, you can go if you want. I just… need time.”_ ** Hollow hesitated, then nodded, leaving Ghost behind in the room that housed their siblings. (Why did they feel so alone?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! I finally use the Lord of Shades! even if it was a dream. More to come, hopefully Ghost won't murder Ivory know that they've tried in a dream. I promise Chapter 11 will be more fun.


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost spends some time with their sibs. Grimm decides to show up early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry about last chapter- Anyway here's some fluff!
> 
> Once again posted from my phone.

Ghost woke to a voice. Kind and sweet. The White Lady was gently shaking them awake. So they had fallen asleep again. That was… alright. (Don’t think about the dream. Don’t think about the dream.) “Good morning my children. Did you sleep well?” Ghost’s various siblings all crawled up, moving towards the White Lady (asides from Lost and Mothwing, though the little vessel moved a bit closer to the queen.) “My husband and I would love it if you accompanied us to breakfast.”

**_“Breakfast! We get breakfast! Yes!”_ ** Falcer cried, jumping up and down.

**_“Please. It is_ ** **way** **_too early for this,”_ ** Mimic begged, holding a paw to their head. Falcer did their best to stick a tongue out at Mimic. 

“It seems you all would. Come along, children.”

She picked up Thread and held them gently as she led the rest out the room. The hallways were a harsh white, but when were they not? It was just super notable in the semi-awake state Ghost was still in. It would be nice to sleep in. That would be really nice. (Void curling around them. Body bending and breaking. This wasn’t them this wasn’t them this wasn’t--)

She set Thread down gently in a chair. Ghost hadn’t realized they had reached the dining room. They found a seat farthest away from both the White Lady and the Pale King, which was somewhere in the middle of the table. Hollow was next to the King, while a groggy looking Hornet sat across from Ghost.

The Pale King cleared his throat. “Good morning children. I hope you slept well.” Unspoken, though Ghost figured he thought it, he hoped no one saw any orange light. “While Hollow and Hornet already know, I am unsure if you six do or not. We shall eat three meals a day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I know vessels do not need to eat, but I encourage you to attend the meals nonetheless. After we eat, my Root and I would like to spend time with all of you.” With that, he reached for some food. The rest of the table did as well, aside from Ghost.

Like the King had said before, Ghost didn’t need to eat. They didn’t eat a lot, either. While the taste was nice, they just didn’t really see a need. Not when they could just chill in a hot spring for a second to gather more soul. Or dreamnail someone. Or… kill… them. Maybe not that last one. 

**_“Aren’t you going to eat?”_ ** Mimic asked.  **_“There’s so many things to try!”_ ** They seemed to have a piece of everything. Ghost let them feel some of their warmth. Mimic leaned into it before trying each food item.

Ghost did take a sip of the tea. It was very similar to the one Herrah had given them, though everything seemed a bit more intense. They should talk to Seer. Her tea was always calming. “I had the most wonderful dream last night,” the White Lady spoke. Her cup of tea had both hands wrapped around it. “We were all in my garden. Ze’Mer and Ipe were there as well. Ze’Mer taught us how to make flower crowns. What about you, my Wyrm? What did you dream of?”

The Pale King was silent. He inhaled, exhaled, then said, “I was in the White Palace.” He paused. Ghost saw him pick at his food. “Then the Nightmare King arrived. He’s, ah, brought some moths with him. We’ll be speaking some time later.” He didn’t mention their encounter? By his expression, he seemed to be remembering it. They noticed his upper paws were stained. Stained by Void. (Why hadn’t they noticed that earlier?)

The White Lady tsked. “Well, you will certainly have a lot of meetings, won’t you? I was worried, at first, when you mentioned him. But if he is bringing moths, then maybe his appearance won’t be such a bad thing.” There was a moment of silence before the White Lady looked over at Hornet. “And what did you dream, my child?”

Hornet, who’s chin rested on her paw, sighed. “Nothing interesting. Just dreamed of Mother.” Her voice sounded a bit strained, her movements a bit sluggish. She lazily picked at a slice of meat. 

“Well I hope you slept well. I would ask my other children what they dreamed, but sadly I doubt any of you could communicate with me just yet. My Wyrm, have you thought about who will teach them?” The Lady asked before taking a sip of tea. Her plate was pretty barren, save for a few slices of meat. 

“I was thinking either Quirrel or Monomon herself. It will probably end up being Quirrel since I’m sure the Teacher will be incredibly busy. I could ask Lurien as well, but he may be better off still caring for the city.” He mumbled something, but Ghost couldn’t quite catch it. 

Then he stood. “We should get you six some different cloaks. These are… acceptable, though you six deserve much better. Finish up quickly so that we may find you some cloaks.” Their siblings ate their food quickly before they each followed the King. Ghost stayed seated. “Ghost, come now. That cloak is all torn up.” Ghost grabbed their cloak tight. The King frowned, but didn’t press. “Hollow, would you like to come as well?” Hollow jumped down, looked at Ghost, then followed the King. They looked back again, beckoning for Ghost to follow, but they shook their head.

“Root and dirt, come  _ on _ ,” Hornet hissed, grabbing Ghost by the hand and dragging them along. They wiggled in her grasp. “Hey Ivory! Hold on!” She called. The King stopped, looking back to see the small spiderling dragging Ghost with her.

Ghost broke free of her grasp (more like she let them go) and signed,  _ ‘I don’t want a new cloak. This one is fine.’  _ They heard a gasp and remembered that the Pale King didn’t know they knew sign. They looked over at him sheepishly. 

“You know sign… Who taught you?” There was another sentance left hanging. 

_ ‘A friend,’  _ they signed carefully.  _ ‘But she’s not here anymore. I’ve been to the surface several times.’  _ They hoped their siblings would play along.  _ ‘I wanted to make sure my siblings would be safe before we all went.’ _

__ They watched the Pale King’s brow furrow. “Do the other children know sign?” Ghost shook their head no. “Very well, we will still have to teach them. Let us get you six your new cloaks. Or five.”

\--

After they had gotten their new cloaks, the children were shown around the palace. Lost still wore an oversized cloak, though it was not as tattered. It split in two at the very end, tapering off in a rounded point. Mothwing still had the gifted Weaver cloak, but they also wore a very cozy looking cloak that was colored green. Falcer and Thread both wore very similar cloaks, longer in the back, opening down the middle. Thread had a scarf wrapped around their neck, hiding half their face. Mimic’s cloak was very simple. Light gray with a bandana around their neck.

Ghost refused to part with theirs, naturally. One, because it was a gift from the Weavers. And two, they didn’t want anyone to see their wings. 

Currently, the children were in the White Lady’s conservatory. She was telling a few of Ghost’s siblings about flowers and their meanings. Ghost directed their attention to the delicate flowers growing in a sectioned off part of the conservatory.  **_“What’s this?”_ ** Lost asked, coming up beside Ghost.

**_“I’ve always called them delicate flowers,”_ ** Ghost explained with a shrug.  **_“Ze’Mer gave it to me before. But I guess she won’t be now.”_ ** They thought about the Traitor’s Child. Ipe, her name. It was good to hear she was alive. Had the Traitor Lord already become the Traitor Lord? 

Lost nodded, before touching one oh so gently. The flower bobbed, but didn’t sustain any damage. They let their paw fall.  **_“I’m… starting to remember some things,”_ ** Lost admitted,  **_“Or maybe I’ve always remembered them.”_ ** They looked back at Ghost. If Lost was remembering things… unless it was memories they had willingly locked away? Please be that.  **_“I’m sorry about fighting you. But thank you as well.”_ **

Ghost nodded.  **_“Well, apology accept. And it’s about time, considering how many times you almost killed me.”_ ** Lost laughed and Ghost joined in. 

**_“You know, you never told me_ ** **how** **_you managed to travel back in time.”_ **

**** Ghost rubbed their arm. Only two. They were used to two. They liked two.  **_“I’m not sure how I did, either. I just… I really wanted to fix things. Fix them more than I already had. And… I woke up in the Abyss.”_ **

Lost was silent. Then they reached out and gently plucked a delicate flower. They gave it to Ghost.  **_“Well, we’ll fix the future, somehow.”_ ** Ghost accepted the flower, holding it close. If they stored it within their Void, would it be safe?  **_“You know, it’s kinda funny.”_ **

**** **_“What is?”_ ** Ghost asked, looking up from the flower. Lost was looking back at their siblings again. Ghost looked as well. The Pale King was being tackled by Falcer and Mimic, Thread and Mothwing cheering them on. Hollow was trying to defend their father so desepertly.

**_“This. This whole thing.”_ **

**** They supposed it was.  **_“Nice kind of funny.”_ **

**** **_“Oh yes, definitely.”_ ** A moment of silence.  **_“I’m glad you got your twin back.”_ ** Ghost could feel some of Lost’s anger as well. 

**_“Yeah.”_ ** Ghost made up their mind, slipping the flower into their Void storage. Hopefully it would be okay. They’d find some vase to put it in later. Isma came running into the conservatory, looking distraught. Xero followed as well.  **_“That doesn’t look good…”_ ** Ghost thought out loud. Or, well, out loud as they could. 

They approached the knight and the King. They caught the word Grimm. Grimm? Was he here? (If he was, could they get Grimmchild back?) The King followed Isma after setting aside Falcer. Xero was left behind to tend to the vessels. Ghost waited for a moment before stepping forward.  **_“Where are you going?”_ ** Lost asked.

But Ghost didn’t answer, only followed. They darted across the hallway, though their pursuit went unnoticed. Isma brought the King around a corner into some sort of lobby-like room. The King dismissed Isma with a wave of his hand. Ghost quickly dashed to the side so she wouldn’t notice them.

They peaked around the corner again. Grimm and the King faced off one another, neither speaking. And then, Grimm bowed, saying, “Hello Pale King. I do apologize for my early visit, but I couldn’t help but be excited to visit the palace.” Grimm looked off to a saide before adding, “It really is as white as they say.”

“You shouldn’t be here this early. I still have half a day with my children before I have any meetings to tend to. Did you bring the moths with you?”

Grimm side eyed the king. “Oh don’t worry Ivory, the moths are still in Dirtmouth. Brumm will bring them here later.  _ I’m  _ here to say hello to Aspen. She rarely ever sleeps, rarely ever dreams. I haven’t had a chance to say hi yet.” There was a muffled squeak from his cloak. A familiar squeak.

“What was that?” The King asked. He also grumbled something about being called Ivory. (Maybe they should start calling him Ivory. Did he dislike being called Ivory? They should call him Ivory.)

Grimm chuckled, waving a paw. “Oh, nothing.” Another squeak. Then a nyeh. Then Grimmchild burst free of Grimm’s wings, flying high. He was already phase 4. Did he have someone else performing the ritual? Ghost’s heart dropped a little. Grimm tried his best to capture the little moth.

Ivory was silent, mouth agape as he watched this transpire. The Nightmare King himself chasing after a rogue child. Grimmchild twirled in the air before catching Ghost’s eye. They both froze, Grimmchild’s wings missed a beat, he fell, Grimm lunged. And then Grimmchild was latched onto Ghost’s face.

They stumbled out from their hiding spot, trying to pry the moth off of them. But Grimmchild stayed strong, crawling on their head until he was nestled between Ghost’s horns. They stopped moving, legs and arms both extended. They looked up at Ivory and Grimm. Ivory and Grimm looked down at them.

“Ah, hello again Little Lost Star--”

“TELL YOUR CHILD TO GET OFF MINE! THEY WILL HAVE NO PART IN YOUR RITUAL!” Ivory roared, his light flaring as he turned on Grimm. His wings buzzed, mandibles clicked, and a claw was pointed at the Nightmare King. Grimm held up his paws in surrender.

“You think  _ I  _ can control Grimmchild? I don’t even know why he’s at phase 4! He shouldn’t be! But if Grimmchild likes your child, then I cannot separate them. The Ritual, you know.”

“You... do not know why Grimmchild is at phase 4?” Ivory asked aghast.

Grimm opened his mouth. He closed it. Then he nodded. “Once we reached Dirtmouth, I took a nap. When I awoke, Grimmchild was already at phase 4.”

Grimmchild piped up with a content nyeh, gaining the two Higher Beings’ attention.  _ ‘I would like to keep Grimmchild with me,’  _ Ghost told the two.

“You didn’t tell me the vessels knew sign,” Grimm said, leaning down to better speak with the Pale King. His tone was smug.

“They don’t,” Ivory responded with, “or atleast, no one but Ghost does.” He folded his arms back up, upper pair held behind his back. “I am not sure why they are the only one to know, but it is very convenient.”

“That it is,” Grimm murmured. Then he clapped his paws together. “Well then, if both Grimmchild and Ghost agree to this arrangement, we should not break it.”

“I still refuse to let  _ my  _ child get roped into  _ your  _ Ritual,” Ivory muttered, now having one paw on his head. Ghost reached up, scratching Grimmchild between his horns. He mwerhed contently, snuggling up closer. 

“Hmm, well, we’ll see about that. ANYWAY, I do believe we still need to figure out sleeping arrangements for myself and my troupe? I’m sure you have plenty of room.”

Ghost padded away slowly and softly. Then they turned and ran back to the conservatory. Grimmchild nyehed in contest, but Ghost ignored it. They reached the conservatory again. Their arrival was so sudden, in fact, that Xero yelped and fell off the bench he was sitting on. Their siblings laughed. Or, well, most of them did. Hollow stared at Ghost.

Then,  **_“Why do you have a Grimmchild?”_ **

**** **_“Not_ ** **a** **_Grimmchild. Just Grimmchild,”_ ** Ghost corrected. They picked Grimmchild up off their head, holding him close. He wiggled, resisting his fate. Oh, but he was no match for Ghost as they only started to pet between his horns again.  **_“And I have them because they are…”_ ** a sibling. Grimmchild was a sibling. And he needed a name other than Grimmchild. Maybe he should name himself? When would he get to speak?  **_“He is a sibling.”_ **

**** That got the attention of their other siblings. If the sudden appearance of Grimmchild didn’t. Or the fact the White Lady was now coming towards them, looking very much like she was going to try and separate Ghost from Grimmchild. They turned and dashed back before setting Grimmchild down so they could sign.  _ ‘I want Grimmchild and Grimmchild wants me. No separating,’  _ they told the White Lady.

“My child, are you sure? You do know what this entails.” But then she stood straight, holding a paw to her mouth. “I do suppose the Grimmchild is already phase 4. How odd for them to want to be with you. And how odd that both Grimm and a phase 4 Grimmchild exist simultaneously.” 

**_“Sibling?”_ ** Falcer asked, shoving theirself through the small wall the other siblings had created. They reached towards Grimmchild and earned a hiss. Grimmchild ducked behind Ghost after said hiss.  **_“Sibling shouldn’t hiss!”_ **

**** **_“Seems like sibling doesn’t like you,”_ ** Thread teasted, lightly punching Falcer.

**_“Well I don’t like you!”_ ** Falcer cried with a mighty (and very much silent) roar before wrestling with Thread on the ground.

“Does that one ever  _ not  _ fight?” Xero asked, pointing to Falcer.

“So far? No, I believe not,” The White Lady mused with a smile. 

**_“Sibling,”_ ** Hollow repeated.  **_“Sibling.”_ ** They closed in on themself a little. Ghost reached for them across the Void, giving them a reassuring pat, both through the Void and physically. 

**_“Could be triplets!”_ **

**** **_“But Hornet,”_ ** Hollow trailed. 

**_“Why not quad?”_ ** Mimic suggested.  **_“If you four get along well enough, you could be.”_ **

**_“That’s a good idea! How about that, Hollow? We could be a quadruplet! AND we could also be the first to include non-Void!”_ ** Ghost asked, clapping their paws together.

“What’s going on with you two?” Hornet asked. In her arms was a very large bouquet. Or it looked large compared to her little body anyway.

_ ‘Want to be quad with you. Me, you, Hollow, and Grimmchild. We’ll have to give Grimmchild a name,’  _ Ghost explained.

Hornet held up a paw while the White Lady asked, “What do you mean by a quad?”

Oh, right.  _ ‘Void thing. Hollow is my closest sibling, so they’re my twin. Mimic, Falcer, and Thread are all closest with each other, so they’re triplets. Everyone has a twin. And sometimes they have another twin.’ _

__ “You do realize how confusing that’s going to be, right?” Hornet asked, deadpan. Ghost shrugged.

“I think that’s such a lovely thing,” The White Lady cooed. “Such a sweet concept. I should tell my Wyrm. Speaking of which, do you know when he’ll be back?”   
And as soon as she asked that, Ivory returned, Grimm in tow. The moth bowed before the White Lady in an overly dramatic fashion. “Aspen, it’s a pleasure to see you again. It’s been forever.”

Aspen (They should start calling her Aspen.) frowned and glared at the moth. “You better not give any nightmares to my children. I will  _ not  _ hesitate to smother your flame,” she threatened. The plants around her curled around itself and small thorns sprung up. 

The Nightmare King bowed again. “I would never dream of it.” Xero chuckled then quickly shut up from the glare of both Ivory and Aspen. “I thought you would like to know I’ll be calling the White Palace my temporary home for the foreseeable future.” 

“I would rather that not be the case,” Aspen huffed.

Grimm hummed then looked at the little vessel who tugged on his wing.  **_“Mothwing, be gentle. That isn’t a cloak. It’s his wings.”_ **

**** **_“Oh! I’m sorry!”_ **

**** “Ah, you must be Mothwing.” He picked up the sibling. Ghost saw both Ivory and Aspen tense. Mothwing hugged him, nuzzling against him. “Mm, yes, I do imagine I am very warm,” he mused. “And you are very cold.”

Grimm set Mothwing back down. “Again I thank you two for your hospitality. I’ll be back soon enough with the moths. Enjoy your lunch.” He disappeared in a puff of red smoke. It was already lunch time? Huh.

“Of course half the day is already gone,” Ivory mumbled. “Well, let us have lunch.” They started back towards the dinning room only to have a servant interrupted, telling the Pale King the Dreamers had arrived. “And my meetings begin. Have a good rest of the day, my Root,” He said sweetly, kissing Aspen on the cheek. 

“Of course. Try not to get a headache, dear.”

“I’ll try.”

Hornet made a barfing noise beside Ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grimm's here finally--  
> Now if only I could get Unn into this.


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivory has a few meetings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again posted from my phone because I am too lazy to go upstairs and grab my laptop

The Pale King took a moment to collect his thoughts and steady his breathing before he would step into the meeting room. He’d have liked for this meeting to happen a little later. Maybe a day later at least, but. At least Monomon and Quirrel would be here. He could at least request one of them as a teacher for the children. He pushed the heavy doors open.

The Dreamers were talking amongst themselves, but once he stepped in, their voices ceased. Herrah sat very casually, though one of her paws were held in a fist. Lurien fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. Monomon floated beside her chair. “Good afternoon Dreamers, Adaleis.” He took his seat at the head of the table, upper paws folded and upon the surface. “May I ask why Quirrel is not present?”

“Oh! Yes, Quirrel. He’s gone to the Kingdom’s Edge to invesitage some reports. Some of the Colosseum bugs have said there’s primal aspids popping up. He left not too long ago,” Monomon explained, waving her tentacles around. “He said he’d only be gone for a week or two. He should be returning soon enough.”

The Pale King nodded. “Very well. Now, you must all be wondering why I have called this meeting seeing as our next check in isn’t scheduled for another few months. There has been... a new development,” he said with some reluctance. “A development that concerns the Pure Vessel.”

“Has the Pure Vessel been injured?” Monomon asked. Lurien shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Herrah… did nothing. 

“The Pure Vessel has not been injured. On the contrary, this development is a positive.” Or, it would be, if he didn’t have to worry about finding some other way to deal with the Infection. He’d find a way. Maybe he hadn’t exhausted all the potential timelines yet? “The Pure Vessel, for all intents and purposes, is not hollow. Is not pure.”

“I fail to see how this is a positive, Your Majesty,” Monomon said dryly. 

“Monomon, you should be able to see it. The Pure Vessel isn’t pure. They’re a child! A living, breathing, thinking individual. I know you know the joy of having a child considering you raised that pillbug,” Herrah pointed out.

“In any other circumstance, the Pure Vessel being impure would be a positive. But considering the Infection is still raging on, it is not,” Monomon countered.

“Unless Ivory has an alternative?” Lurien suggested, then looked at the king. “You do have one, correct?”

“Ah… no. I do not. I thought it imperative to tell you three as soon as possible. After all, none of you will have to become Dreamers now.” He looked over at Herrah. Herrah looked at him. “And since none of you shall become Dreamers, any deals made are now null. Herrah, Hornet is your child. If you wish for full custody, I will not argue--”

“No.”

“Pardon?”

“No,” she repeated. “I will not take full custody. Hornet is not just my child. She is also your’s. She deserves a father, even if said father is you. So no. You will play an active role in her life just as much as I do.” She was standing now, facing off with the wyrm. He felt both warmth and pain in his chest, in his heart.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.” He should do something nice for Hornet. Would she like a trip to the Blue City? Perhaps he should take her to visit Vespa. He cleared his throat as Herrah sat back down. “There is one other thing. Excuse me for a moment,” the King said before standing.

“Wait, where are you going, Your Majesty?” Lurien asked. “Your Majesty!” He should really stop leaving midsentence of Lurien. Ah, well. Hopefully the children were still eating lunch. 

He swung by the dinning hall, but they were not there. Granted, the meeting was called right before it. He asked a retainer where his Root had gone. To the private kitchen to  _ bake _ , children in tow. He could hear the chaos before he even approached the room. Looking inside he saw several children running around and chasing one another, icing on their paws and staining their clothes. Hornet was on the countertop trying to aVoid her siblings. Hollow and Ghost were up there alongside her. 

“Oh! Hello my Wyrm. I thought I’d try baking with the children. Is your meeting already over?” His Root asked, looking up from a mess she was trying to clean. Which she wasn’t doing a very good job at. Icing covered paws would smear all over the spot she had just cleaned before running away again.

“No, it is not. But I thought I’d borrow Hollow and…” He looked around for the cleanest, most presentable vessel out of the newly found six. As it turned out, it was Ghost. “Ghost. Hollow and Ghost. I’d like to take them back to the meeting with me.”

His Root considered this, looking at the small haunting of vessels running around. If they had a voice, they’d be screaming. “Well, if they wish to go with, I don’t see why not.”

He moved to pick up Hollow, but his robes got snagged on something. He looked down to see an icing covered child hugging his leg. Welp, there goes these robes. He should have expected this honestly. He reached down and stroked Mothwing before standing once more. He picked up Hollow and them in one arm, Ghost in the other. He felt something squirm underneath and the Grimmchild poked his head out. “Keep him under your cloak,” he told Ghost, who only stared up at him. But Grimmchild did go back under the cloak. He bid a farewell to his wife who was now scolding Mothwing for getting their father dirty. 

He gently opened the doors to the meeting room, setting down Hollow and Ghost on the table. “There’s… two,” Monomon gasped, reaching a tentacle out to look over Ghost. The child leaned into her touch, poking at her jelly-like body. Hollow stayed next to the King, awating any instruction. “ _ How _ are there two?” She looked up at the Pale King, Ghost still holding a tentacle in their claws.

And he doesn’t know. 

He still doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how seven survived instead of one (and there very well may be more who survived. He hopes there's more that survived). He doesn’t know how a million died when the maximum number of children the eggs  _ could  _ hatch had been a hundred. So he shrugs. And he also looks over at Lurien. 

The butterfly scrunched and unscrunched the hem of his cloak, staring at Ghost. Adaleis held Lurien’s other paw. The Pale King spoke again, bringing Lurien’s attention to him. “It was not only two who survived. There are five other vessels not in this room currently, all of which survived. Which leads me to the next development.” Root and dirt he’d regret this. But not telling the Dreamers would eat him up. “It was not a hundred lives I sacrificed. It was a million.” His voice grew softer as he said the last sentence. 

There was a moment of silence, lasting only for a single heartbeat. But even with that short moment, the silence crept into the King. Herrah slammed her paws down on the table, breaking the silence and causing Adaleis to yelp and clutch onto Lurien’s arm. “You killed  _ one million _ of  _ your own children _ ?!” She hissed. She reared up. If her needle wasn’t currently outside held by a Kingsmould, she would have pointed it directly at him. 

“I thought it only to be a hundred maximum, you know this, Queen of Deepnest. I triple checked my calculations. I had Monomon run all of them as well,” he challenged, staying still but his light did intensify. “I did not know it was a million until the six vessels came to us.”

Herrah leaned over the table. Hollow moved backwards, positioning themself between the spider queen and the Pale King. They reached for a nail they didn’t have. He guided his child to the side gently, standing tall to face off with the queen. “Would you have still killed so many?”

The two never broken eye contact, glaring into each other’s eyes. 

A chirp and a nyeh. 

A chirp and a white face, jumping up between them. A nyeh and a flash of red and black, flying around them. Ghost waved their arms, breaking up the staring match while Grimmchild flapped about before landing between Ghost’s horns. Both parties backed down, Herrah still standing but no longer leaning over the table. The King himself sat back down in his seat. 

The Little Ghost gave both of them a look before sitting cross legged on the table, dragging Hollow down with them. Grimmchild moved from the horns to Ghost’s lap, being gently stroked. Monomon peered at the three curiously. (It didn’t go unnoticed how Hollow acted in front of the Dreamers. Stone still.)

Lurien looked like he was about to say something when the Pale King exhaled sharply. “There is one last request I would like to make before we bring this meeting to a close.”

“There’s a-a Grimmchild,” Lurien stuttered.

“Yes, there is. As for my last request,” he looked at Monomon. “The children will need a teacher. Who better than you? Or Quirrel since I’d imagine both of us are about to become very busy once again.”

The jellyfish tapped a tentacle on her mask. “I think that would be good for Quirrel,” she said finally, tentacles dropping. “I’ll send a letter to him. What will the children be taught?”

“The same that Hornet has learned, minus the fighting unless they want it. They will have to learn sign as well. I will find some tutors for the children, but I would still like to have Quirrel teach them primarily.”

Monomon nodded. “It is settled, then, Pale King. I look forward to our next meeting, even if none of us are Dreamers any longer.” 

“You three still wish to have these meetings?” He asked.

Lurien nodded while Herrah spoke, “Of course. Even if I am no longer a Dreamer, Hornet is your daughter just as she is mine.” 

With the meeting ended, the Teacher drifted out of the room. The Beast walked past the King, not aknowledging him any further. The only one who did not move was Lurien, who’s gaze rested on Ghost once again. The King walked over to the butterfly.

“I apologize about yesterday, Lurien. I had to tell Aspen about Hollow and I must have fallen asleep afterwards.”

The butterfly’s head twitched. “I-it’s alright my King. I was going to t-tell you about Hollow, anyway.” Lurien stood, walking past the King. Then the butterfly paused. He looked back at the Pale King, then to the two vessels inside the room, debating something. He leaned in close to the King, speaking soft enough so that the vessels could not hear them. “That one… their aura…” Lurien trailed, pointing at Ghost. The child looked at him. Lurien shook his head and back up towards the door. “Powerful,” he managed to say before three moths barged in. The Watcher wasted no time slipping out past them. Ghost did as well, dragging Hollow and carrying Grimmchild with.

Sunseeker barged in first. She still wore the mask he had first seen her wearing. Said mask had a large back that resembled the ring of light always around Aine. Her wings were held up as she stormed up to the Pale King, red eye spots on the wings staring at him. “You!” She roared. She was actually very short, only a few inches taller than the King himself. “You are the one who tried to smother our Guiding Light!” 

The second moth scooted up to Sunseeker, reaching out and grasping her arm. They pulled her back some. Sunseeker’s golden wings fell around her body, but her expression did not. The second moth guided Sunseeker over to a chair. The second moth’s wings were pale blue, the tips golden. Their ruff was a paler gold. They wore no mask, their green eyes catching the golden flame within their lantern. Said lantern hung from a staff, held within one paw. 

And the third moth stood awkwardly to the side. Once both Sunseeker and the lantern holder were seated, the Pale King took his. Grimm decided that, instead of sitting in the open chair across from Ivory, he’d sit next to him instead. The King groaned inwardly. 

_ More meetings _ . “Welcome to Hallownest,” the King started with, trying to make his tone friendly and inviting. It came out tired and strained.

“We do not need your welcome, Pale Usurper. We are here for Aine, and Aine alone. Do not think your false light will lull us away from her,” Sunseeker barked. Grimm was not kidding when he said her temper could rival Aine’s. 

“I do not wish for my light to take you from her,” he said simply, resting all four paws on the table, neatly folded. “In fact, I encourage you to worship her. For perhaps if you did, her rage may fade.”

Sunseeker barked a laugh. “Do you think her anger comes from the lack of worship?” She sneered, leaning foward. “For a being of light, you are incredibly blind. Though, as a  _ worm _ , I assume you are used to that.”

The King stiffened. Grimm stiffened, then cast a glance at the King. “Then why is she upset?” He asked instead. Sunseeker frowned, clearly upset her attack was not retaliated against.

The blue moth spoke up this time, their voice soft like robes spun from the finest spider silk. “She is upset over the loss of her children. She is upset you have come and stolen them from her. She is upset you have not spoken to her once about the children  _ you  _ burned.” The green eyes shown, catching the golden flame, allowing it to dance within the greenery. “You have not spoken to her at all.”

The King swallowed. “I did not mean to cause harm to the moths.” How young he had been. From a beast best described as a waking nightmare, to a bug one would not be so hesitant to approach. He spent so long living in darkness, living in dirt. To suddenly have light, light created by  _ himself _ . He clenched his jaw. “I apologize for what harm I have caused the moths.”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me, worm,” Sunseeker hissed dangerously. 

She was right. He shouldn’t be. But to face off with the one he had hurt. “You said you shall allow us to worship her?” He looked over at the blue moth.

“Yes, of course. Previously I banned worship of her due to her… temper tantrum, and now due to the Infection, but perhaps if I allowed you to…”

“Temper tantrum,” Grimm said with a light chuckle and a shaking head, the first time he had talked since the meeting started. The King looked over at him. Grimm looked up at him. “Ivory, you  _ need  _ to speak with my sister.” The humorous tone was quickly replaced with one far more grim. 

“Of course he needs to! He needs to stop dodging her and speak already. Otherwise I will knock you out and force you to talk to her right now!” Sunseeker exclaimed, wings flaring again as she slammed her paws on the table.

The blue moth stroked her back, saying calmly, “Sunseeker, perhaps you should take a step outside? I can finish this meeting if need be.” Sunseeker’s wings quivered before she got up without another word, throwing the doors open with ease. Of course she sent a death glare to the king before fully leaving the room. The three remaining individuals watched her storm out before looking at one another again. Then the blue moth cleared their throat. “I am The Pathfinder. I lead the tribe just as much as Sunseeker does.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Pathfinder,” The King offered. But Pathfinder did not return it. 

Instead, the moth sat up straighter, puffing their chest out. Their antennae curled. “We will stay where the moths live. I hope they can at least still call the Crown their home.” For a second, he remembered arriving at Kingdom’s Edge and the moths he had encountered there. “But the reason Sunseeker told you we are here is not the only reason.” They removed the lantern from the staff, setting it in front of them.

The flame danced, growing brighter as Pathfinder coaxed it. “I would hope your Lady Aspen has told you of the dangers the Void possesses. Especially the god of it.” The flame started to produce darker smoke, curling into the shape of the Lord of Shades. “I would hope she has told you how this beast hungered and tried to devour all life in Hallownest.” The smoke created a small village. The pillar of smoke that was the Lord of Shades approached it, smothering it. (Void closing in on his light. Void reaching for him.) “Since we stand here today, it was pushed back. Sealed within the Abyss. However, now it is reawakening. No doubt becasue of  _ you _ .” Their green eyes burned into Ivory’s shell, their voice cold. The smoke dissipated, swept away by unfelt winds. 

“... The moths still call the Crown their home, though some still live within Kingdom’s Edge,” Ivory said after a long moment of silence.

“Then we, too, shall call the Crown our home, Pale Worm.” Pathfinder stood, taking their lantern and leaving without another word. The room grew cold. He looked down at his Void-stained paws. (The look in those eyes, the spear embeded in its chest. Why did his heart hurt?)

Ivory startled at the sudden touch of Grimm. He looked at the moth god. His paw was warm like the scarlet flame he was born of. The moth god held concern in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Grimm. “I-I’ll talk to Aine. Just… I would like some time with my children beforehand.”

“Afraid she’ll try and kill you?” He mused. “Worry not, King Ivory, for I shall protect you.” He held a paw on his chest dramatically. At Ivory’s pathetic looking face, the moth added, “We will speak to her in a week. Now come on, there is still some time before any of the children should sleep.” Grimm looked at his robes. “We should also get you some different clothes.”

He looked at his paws one last time. Just what had he unleashed? (The eyes, begging. The voice, crying. What had it said? What had  _ they _ said? Lurien’s words echoed in his mind. Layered under, low and staticy, were the Lord of Shade’s.)

(The Void around Ghost, hovering. Eight lights shining. Eyes.)

(That child… powerful.)

( **Father! Help! It hurts!** )

(A single pale flower, held within the claws of a child. Of Ghost. Given to Aspen. Given to Hornet. To Hollow.)

“No,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3   
> We'll circle back to this later, but for now, why dont we check in on Quirrel? I'm sure nothing bad will happen


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quirrel goes looking for Primal Aspids but finds something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, we'll be getting back to Ivory soon enough. I just felt we should have a bit of fluff, you know? Anyway this chapter starts a nit before the Dreamer Meeting and ends a little afterwards.

For three days, Quirrel found nothing but hoppers, hoppers, and more hoppers. Sometimes he’d stray upon a bee. The occasional boofly. Once he stumbled into a belfly nest. That had not been fun.

But no primal aspids. The only aspid he  _ had  _ found was a little baby which had apparently been someone’s pet. 

He groaned, placing his paws on his hips as he looked at his surroundings. The only life nearby were some hoppers hopping along. Higher Beings, he was sick of seeing them. Still, he could record what he observed. A few hoppers doing, you guessed it, hopping!

“Why’d you come out here, Quirrel? It’s been four days now,” He asked himself. “Everyone knows primal aspids are extinct! Someone probably mistook an aspid mother or hunter for a primal one.” He tilted his head up, eyes closed, running his paw down over his head. He opened his eyes, looking at the rock above. The buzz of bees floated down to him, bouncing off the rock walls. 

He could always ask Queen Vespa if any of her bees have seen any primal aspids, he supposed. Though he didn’t really want to get past a bunch of bees. He could go back to the Colosseum and ask around. Again. The thought of stepping into that blood soaked death trap made him shiver. Maybe he could find someone else. Maybe he could go ask that baby aspid owner? 

He remembered the owner. Vantablack with four arms, resembling a kingsmould. Some Void construct that had gone crazy. They had tried to grab him. Luckily he had managed to slip away when the baby aspid started flying off. He didn’t really want to almost get kidnapped again.

Weren’t there moths here at one point? A few stayed behind when the rest moved to the Crown. Maybe one of them had some insight. The problem was  _ finding  _ where they were. He had no idea where the old moth village was. Nobody did, except the moths of the Crown, and they certainly weren’t telling anyone. 

Well, he had no other leads (that he would willingly pursue), so it was better than wandering around, hoping to get shot at by a primal aspid. He started to scale the rock walls when he heard a thump. He paused his climbing, looking around. Nothing to show where the thump came from. He continued to climb up. Another thump, this time jostling him loose. He yelped as he fell, trying to catch the rocks. But he didn’t and he collided with the floor below, knocking the air out his lungs.

He laid there for a moment. The ground shook. He could see the pebbles bounce. The thumping was increasing, coming closer and closer. He pushed himself up, looking to his side to see a Great Hopper charging at him. He screamed, trying to scramble up the wall. But the shaking made it too hard to climb. He curled up, hoping this would give him  _ some  _ protection. He should have brought his nail, he should have brought his nail, he should have--

“Hey asshat!” The Great Hopper stopped charging at Quirrel, turning around to chase whoever yelled. Quirrel uncurled, seeing a hooded warrior wielding a shield with no nail facing off the Great Hopper. It jumped, the hooded warrior walked underneath it, slamming the shield into it’s belly. It landed and turned, jumping again. The warrior swung at the belly once more, hemolymph leaking out. It jumped one last time and the warrior smashed the shield into the Great Hopper’s legs. When it landed, it sprawled out. The warrior turned to face Quirrel, victorious.

They opened their mouth to say something when the Great Hopper landed on them, squishing them. Quirrel gasped, their shield skidding in front of them. The Great Hopper looked at the squished bug, then to Quirrel. It leapt and Quirrel rolled under it, grabbing the shield and throwing it at the Great Hopper’s stomach. It hit, straight and true, spewing yellow hemolymph all over the pillbug. Quirrel fell to his knees, breath rattling. 

He had watched someone  _ die _ . Granted, he had seen plenty of non-sapient bugs die. But that one held sapience. They had thoughts. Hopes and dreams. His paw went to his mouth as he started to mourn. He didn’t even know the warrior’s name! They were probably an ant. Quirrel thought they were an ant. What colony had they come from? Did God Tamer know them?

He heard a groan. He turned around, still sitting atop his knees. The ant was... getting up? Cracks littered they’re body, but he didn’t see any hemolymph. Instead he saw something dark drip from them. The ant pushed themself up into a sitting position. “That was  _ not  _ how I wanted us to meet,” they said. “I’m Tiso. He/Him please.” They, he, held out a paw. Quirrel eyed it, eyed him. He saw no orange in the eyes, and certainly no orange pus leaking from Tiso’s wounds. So he took the paw. It was cold, the texture very similar to that one not-kingsmould he had touched.

“What do you mean, ‘not how you wanted us to meet?’” Quirrel asked instead of giving his name. Just because this strange ant had saved did not mean he had to trust him. (Was Tiso an ant? He was cold. Like that not-kingsmould. The texture was similar to. And he didn’t bleed hemolymph.)

Tiso rubbed the back of his neck. “I heard about you from the Colosseum,” he admitted. Why did Quirrel get a sense of deja vu from this Tiso character? “You’re Quirrel, right?” So he already knew his name. The pillbug nodded. “Ah, I knew it.”

Tiso stood, paying no mind to his injuries. Instead he looked at his dented shield covered in hemolymph. “Aw man, now I’m gonna have to get this fixed.” Honestly it looked like he’d need a replacement. Quirrel got up as well. Tiso walked past, grabbing his dented shield from out of the Great Hopper’s stomach. “Good throw!” He said to Quirrel, giving him a thumbs up.

_ Is he seriously not going to take care of his wounds?  _ Quirrel groaned. His camp was nearby. He could take the ant(?) back with him to take care of the wounds. The ant was already scaling up the wall. “Where are you going?” Quirrel called up.

“Up. Where you were going. Come on pillbug!” Tiso called down, gesturing for Quirrel to follow. “There’s more Great Hoppers down there so the sooner we leave, the better.”

Quirrel sighed and began climbing up, much easier now that the rocks weren’t being shaken loose. He climbed up, taking Tiso’s extended paw as he was hauled up. He took a moment to catch his breath, really catch it, now that his life wasn’t being threatened. “We should… head back… to my camp,” Quirrel said between breaths. “I can… help with… your wounds.” He pointed to the cracks.

“My what?” Tiso looked to where the pillbug pointed. “Oh! My wounds! Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s not as bad as it looks. Plush, it’ll heal on it’s own,” he said, waving a paw. 

“You could bleed to death. It could get infected. The injury could spread to other parts of your body. Need I go on?” Quirrel asked innocently. 

Tiso sighed, throwing up his paws and saying, “Fine, fine, you win Mr. Smartypants. Where is your camp anyway?” Quirrel pointed upwards. “What did I expect?” The ant deadpanned.

“It isn’t too far,” Quirrel reassured.

“Sure.” The two began their climb. The pillbug kept a careful eye on the ant. If the wounds really did hurt, he didn’t say anything. Quirrel also looked at the trail of… hemolymph Tiso left behind. It held no color other than black. He looked up at Tiso again, brow furrowing. Was Tiso not an ant? Could he be… made of Void? He didn’t recall the Pale King making anything like Tiso, but perhaps he did. Tiso didn’t seem crazy like that failed kingsmould, though, so why was he all the way out here and not in the White Palace?

They reached the top of the wall, Quirrel taking the lead. The path to the camp was carefully hidden. Not many lived in Kingdom’s Edge, but those who do probably wouldn’t think twice about stealing from an unattended camp. 

Quirrel held open the cloth door for Tiso, saying, “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to grab my medical kit.” The ant (Tiso can’t be an ant, but he can’t be Void. Can he?) looked around before settling on some cushions that served as chairs. Quirrel went to one part of the tent, moving blankets off a pile and revealing the med kit. He brought it over to Tiso, setting it and himself down beside the… ant. “I’ll start with some disinfectants.” He opened the kit, picking out everything he’d need. He wetted a cloth and moved it towards Tiso wounds.

Tiso grabbed him by the wrist. “I can take care of it myself,” he said with some urgency. Quirrel blinked several times before giving the cloth to Tiso and standing. Odd. He moved over to the small “kitchen,” grabbing two cups to heat water in. Once the water started heating, he brought out his field journal and wrote down what had happened. The Great Hopper attacking, the probably-not-an-ant saving him. The fact he should have brought his nail with him. “There, done,” Tiso said. The water was also done boiling. Quirrel placed a tea bag in each before bringing the cups over. He set one beside Tiso and one beside himself. The definitely-not-an-ant had put up the kit. The dirtied cloth sat beside it, stained black.

The tea bag sat in the water, allowing the leaves to spread their taste. Quirrel held his cup, looking at the hooded warrior. “So what do you do for fun?” Tiso asked, breaking the silence. 

“I read. Mostly scientific articles. Sometimes I’ll read a bit of history,” Quirrel mused, removing the tea bag and setting it on the stained cloth. He would have to throw it out, if that really was what he thought it was. He took a sip of his tea.

Tiso watched him, then did the same, removing the tea bag then taking a sip. “That sounds… fun,” he said after he swallowed the liquid. 

“Mm,” Quirrel nodded. For a moment he let the warm water heat his paws. “So what are you?” He asked, looking at Tiso while taking another drink.

“Wh-what? You can’t… you can’t just  _ ask  _ what someone is!” He said defensively. 

“Maybe not. But I’m an archivist. It’s my job to learn things. And you, my friend, are a thing to learn. As am I,” he countered with in a light tone. “I’ll tell you about myself if you tell me about yourself.”

Tiso sputtered and huffed, taking a long drink from his cup. He shifted in his seat, meeting then breaking eye contact with Quirrel over and over. “Voidsea, fine! I’ll tell you! Just stop looking at me like that!” He barked. Quirrel smirked, sipping from his cup. Tiso grumbled to himself. “Okay so I might not be a regular bug. Or a bug period.”

“So you aren’t an ant?”

“Voidsea, no. I rather die permanently then worship Aine. I’m made of Void, actually,” he explained. 

“Oh,” Quirrel said softly. “So the Pale King made you, correct?”

“No! Why does everyone assume I’m either an ant or that that pale bitch made me?!” He exclaimed. “I made myself,  _ thank you  _ very much.”

“You can’t just make yourself. That isn’t how it works!” Quirrel pointed out.

“For a bug, yeah. But do you know Void? No! You don’t! So I made myself, end of story, now tell me about you,” Tiso snapped. 

“I--” But Quirrel had no other points to argue. He  _ didn’t  _ know Void, plain and simple. He sighed, paw falling to his lap. “Very well. What would you like to know?” He asked.

Tiso tapped his face. “Why are you here without a nail?”

“That… wasn’t what I was expecting. I rarely use my nail. I didn’t really think I’d need it,” he admitted. “Though I suppose I did. Thank you for saving me. I don’t think I’ve said that yet.” He smiled at Tiso. The Voidling shifted, looking away.

“Y-yeah.” There was a moment of silence, the only sound the buzzing of bees. “You’re Monomon’s assistant, right?”

“Yes. She rescued me when I was but a small larva. Without her, I doubt I would be here today,” said Quirrel, remembering the story she had told him. About how she had found him alone and abandoned in Greenpath. 

“She’s your… mother,” Tiso said after some time. “What’s it like having a mother?”

Tiso wouldn’t know what a mother was. Quirrel’s heart hurt for the Voidling. “It’s wonderful,” the pillbug said. “Sometimes she gets after me, but she does because she loves me. She protects me. She’s taught me almost everything I know, and what she didn’t teach, I learned for myself. Sometimes, when I’m not feeling well, she’ll make me jelly foods.” He curled around himself. “I’m going to miss her,” he said, softly.

He shouldn’t have read that letter. If he had just let Monomon read it, if he had, for once, ignored his curiosity, then he could live blissful. Unaware he’d be saying goodbye to his mother. But she would have told him, anyway, he knew. If he could pretend that, for a moment, things would get better and he wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Monomon, he would.

He felt Tiso’s cold paw on his back. When he stiffened, Tiso pulled it away. “Sorry, I just thought that’s what you do. To comfort someone, you know?”

“No, it’s okay,” Quirrel said. Tiso put his paw back on Quirrel’s back. “Thank you.”

\--

Quirrel allowed Tiso to stay as long as the Voidling wanted to. Which ended up being as long as Quirrel was around. Currently, the two have been together for three days. One the third day of them looking for primal aspids (with no luck), Quirrel got a letter from Monomon.

She was probably asking him to come back. There really was no point staying out here. An entire week had gone by and he hadn’t seen anything. He sighed, setting the letter aside.

Tiso had gone out to either find a primal aspid or to find some locals, whichever happened first. Quirrel was busy packing things up. He’d leave out only the bare essentials, otherwise everything was getting packed. The letter from Monomon always stayed in the corner of his eye.

Finally he had enough. He couldn’t take it! He had to see what she had written to him about! Maybe it was something important, like the King found an alternative, or the Infection was fading, or she decided to back out on being a Dreamer! Or maybe it really was her just asking him to come home. He wouldn’t mind her asking, but any chance she wouldn’t have to dream…

He opened the letter carefully. This would soon join the small box filled with mementos he was making. He slid the letter out carefully, setting aside the envelope. The letter read: 

_ My Dearest Quirrel, _

_ I have some very good news to share with you! The Pale King called an impromptu Dreamer Meeting. At first I was worried. I worried something had happened to the Pure Vessel, or that we would have to dream sooner than expected. _

_ Of course, if either of those things happened, I wouldn’t start this letter off saying I have good news, now would I? No, the good news is great news. The King has found six living vessels! There is now a total of seven within the palace. Seven! Can you believe it? _

_ He told us that none of them were hollow, however, not even the Pure Vessel. He also told us we would no longer be Dreamers. He has no alternate plan.  _

_ What he will do next, I am not sure. But he has asked you to come to the White Palace. He wants you to be the vessels teacher. They will need to learn sign so they can communicate, though I am sure you already thought of that. I would help you teach them if I could, but since the King has no plan, I will be dedicating my time to trying to find a cure. Or, at least, some sort of vaccine. _

_ You could stop by my Archives before going to the White Palace, or you could head there directly. Either way, we will see each other soon enough. _

_ With All the Love One Can Give, _

_ Your Mother Monomon _

The letter shook in Quirrel’s grasp. Tears slipped from his eyes like raindrops. A gentle pitter patter, dropping onto the letter written in precious spider silk. “Hey Quirrel! You’ll never guess what I found!” Tiso said, barging in through the “door.” The pillbug looked over at the Voidling. “Quirrel? Are you okay?” He asked, coming over to the pillbug’s side.

“I’m fine, Tiso.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I’m  _ happy _ , Tiso. Bugs cry when we’re happy.” He handed Tiso the letter. “Look. Monomon isn’t going to be a Dreamer anymore. And-and the vessels! They’re alive!”

Tiso read through the letter. His grasp wasn’t as soft as Quirrel’s, causing the paper to wrinkle. “You… you aren’t going to leave, right?” Tiso asked in a hush voice. At Quirrel’s lack of response, he whispered, “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” He wasn’t crying. Quirrel wasn’t sure Tiso  _ could  _ cry. But his voice shook like he was. 

“I-- The King asked me to tutor the vessels. Scratch that,  _ Monomon _ asked me to tutor the vessels. We haven’t found a single primal aspid. We haven’t even found a hint of a moth out here. It’s been an entire week since I’ve started looking. And you’ve been here longer than I have. None of us have seen a primal aspid. This--” Quirrel tapped the letter-- “is something only I can do. Some other Archivist could always come out here to investigate. Teaching vessels? I’m  _ honored  _ the King asked for  _ me  _ to teach them.”

Tiso gave Quirrel the letter back, turning towards the door. “Tiso don’t leave. Tiso!” The pillbug chased him to the door, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. “Tiso, you can come with me. I only know so much about Void and you are an expert.” He gave the Voidling a smile. 

Tiso tried to keep a straight face, or a sad face anyway, but it fell into a small grin. “Come on. Don’t you want to see the Palace? I could use your help with the vessels. Wasn’t there something Void beings could do? What was it again?”

Tiso tried to hide his face as he sighed, “Fine, I’ll… I’ll go with you.” His voice held a smile, however. Quirrel beamed, hugging Tiso. “Uh…” the Voidling said, but he didn’t pull away from the pillbug.

Finally, the pillbug released the Voidling. “Let’s finish up packing. What was that thing you found by the way?” He asked, dragging Tiso back into the tent.

“Oh, uh, about us not finding any primal aspids or moths. I  _ might  _ have found a moth. His name’s Markoth. He tried to kill me,” he said sheepishly. 

Quirrel stopped, looking at Tiso fully. “You found a moth? In Kingdom’s Edge? Alive?”  _ So the rumors  _ were  _ true. Or one at least. _

Tiso nodded. “Yeah? I mean, he’d have to be alive if he tried to kill me. Do you still want to go to the Palace?”

Quirrel opened and closed his mouth. Finally, he settled on, “Yes, but I’ll have to look into this. Did you find any lost moth villages or anything?”

“No, but he did attack me because, and I quote, ‘No darkness shall take the light of my people.’ So I  _ might  _ be close to something important to them? Or maybe he just doesn’t like us Voidlings,” Tiso offered.

Quirrel turned, tapping a claw to his face. “Perhaps… I’ll send an Archivist.” He turned around again. “Let’s finish packing up. The trip to the Palace will be long.”  _ And boring. But now that you’re coming along, it won’t be.  _ Warmth bloomed in Quirrel’s chest at that thought. The pillbug smiled again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's a special day~ Did you know March 15 is also known as the Ides of March and it's the day Julius Ceaser got stabbed?  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Yeah yeah, y'all wanna see whats up with PK, I know. Oh, and I'll be posting another chapter to the Memories of a Future and a Past soon! I haven't posted that one cuz I wanted this chapter to be up first. Enough about that--
> 
> Also I forgot this super important link. It's what gave me the idea of void tiso  
> https://ghostlemerofhallownest.tumblr.com/post/640213936901324800/anyway-heres-all-ive-said-on-my-sharpe-and-tiso

**Author's Note:**

> Any comment is welcome and so is critique!


End file.
